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THE CITY OF FIRE 

















THE CITY OF FIRE 


BY 


GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL 

i • 


AUTHOR OF "MARCIA BCHUYLEK,” “THE EXCHANTRD BARS,” 
“THE TRT8T,’* ETC. 


WITH A FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY 
RALPH P. COLEMAN 



PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

1922 




1 


A 


V 


v 

COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY PEOPLES MONTHLY COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY J. B* LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 


PRINTED BY J* B, LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA, U. 8. A. 


JUL 13 1922 


©Cl. A 07 7730 ^ 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


i 

Sabbath Valley lay like a green jewel cupped in 
the hand of the surrounding mountains with the morning 
sun serene upon it picking out the clean smooth streets, 
the white houses with their green blinds, the maples with 
their clear cut leaves, the cosy brick school house wide 
winged and friendly, the vine clad stone church, and the 
little stone bungalow with low spreading roof that was 
the parsonage. The word manse had not yet reached the 
atmosphere. There were no affectations in Sabbath Valley. 

Billy Gaston, two miles away and a few degrees up the 
mountain side, standing on the little station platform at 
Pleasant View, waiting for the morning train looked down 
.upon the beauty at his feet and felt its loveliness blindly. 
A passing thrill of wonder and devotion fled through his 
fourteen-year-old soul as he regarded it idly. Down there 
was home and all his interests and loyalty. His eyes dwelt 
affectionately on the pointing spire and bell tower. He 
loved those bells, and the one who played them, and under 
their swelling tones had been awakened new thoughts and 
lofty purposes. He knew they were lofty. He was not 
yet altogether sure that they were his, but they were there 
in his mind for him to think about, and there was a strange 
awesome lure about their contemplation. 

Down the platform was the new freight agent, a thick¬ 
set, rubber-shod individual with a projecting lower jaw 
and a lowering countenance. He had lately arrived to 
assist the regular station agent, who lived in a bit of a 
shack up the mountain and was a thin sallow creature 
With sad eyes and no muscles. Pleasant View was abso- 

5 


6 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


lately what it stated, a pleasant view and nothing else. 
The station was a well weathered box that blended into 
the mountain side unnoticeably, and did not spoil the 
view. The agent’s cabin was hidden by the trees and did 
not count. But Pleasant View was important as a station 
because it stood at the intersection of two lines of thread 
like tracks that slipped among the mountains in different 
directions; one winding among the trees and about a clear 
mountain lake, carried guests for the summer to and fro, 
and great quantities of baggage and freight from afar; the 
other travelled through long tunnels to the world beyond 
and linked great cities like jewels on a chain. There were 
heavy bales and boxes and many trunks to be shifted and 
it was obvious that the sallow station agent could not do it : 
all. The heavy one had been sent to help him through the 
rush season. 

In five minutes more the train would come from around 
the mountain and bring a swarm of ladies and children 
for the Hotel at the Lake. They would have to be helped 
off with all their luggage, and on again to the Lake train, 
which would back up two minutes later. This was Billy’s 
harvest time. He could sometimes make as much as fifty 
cents or even seventy-five if he struck a generous party, 
just being generally useful, carrying bags and marshalling 
babies. It was important that Billy should earn some¬ 
thing for it was Saturday and the biggest ball game of 
the season came off at Monopoly that afternoon. Billy 
could manage the getting there, it was only ten miles away, 
but money to spend when he arrived was more than a 
necessity. Saturday was always a good day at the station. j 

Billy had slipped into the landscape unseen. His 
rusty, trusty old bicycle was parked in a thick huckleberry 
growth just below the grade of the tracks, and Billy him¬ 
self stood in the shelter of several immense packing boxes 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


7 


piled close to the station. It was a niche just big enough 
for his wiry young length with the open station window 
close at his ear. From either end of the platform he 
was hidden, which was as it should be until he got ready 
to arrive with the incoming train. 

The regular station agent was busy checking a high 
pile of trunks that had come down on the early Lake train 
from the Hotel and had to be transferred to the New York 
train. He was on the other side of the station and some 
distance down the platform. 

Beyond the packing boxes the heavy one worked with 
brush and paint marking some barrels. If Billy applied an 
eye to a crack in his hiding place he could watch every 
stroke of the fat black brush, and see the muscles in the 
swarthy cheeks move as the man mouthed a big black 
cigar. But Billy was not interested in the new freight 
agent, and remained in his retreat, watching the brilliant 
sunshine shimmer over the blue-green haze of spruce and 
pine that furred the way down to the valley. He basked 
in it like a cat blinking its content. The rails were begin¬ 
ning to hum softly, and it would not be long till the 
train arrived. 

Suddenly Billy was aware of a shadow looming. 

The heavy one had laid down his brush and was 
stealing swiftly, furtively to the door of the station with a 
weather eye to the agent on his knees beside a big trunk 
writing something on a check. Billy drew back like a 
turtle to his shell and listened. The rail was beginning to 
sing decidedly now and the telephone inside the grated 
window suddenly sat up a furious ringing. Billy’s eye 
came round the corner of the window, scanned the empty 
platform, glimpsed the office desk inside and the weighty 
figure holding the receiver, then vanished enough to be 
out of sight, leaving only a wide curious ear to listen; 



8< 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“That you Sam? Yep. Nobody about. Train’s 
coming. Hustle up. Anything doing? You don’t say! 
Some big guy? Say , that’s good news at last! Get on 
the other wire and hold it. I’ll come as quick as the train’s 
gone. S’long!” 

Billy cocked a curious eye like a flash into the window 
and back again, ducking behind the boxes just in time 
to miss the heavy one coming out with an excited air, and 
a feverish eye up the track where the train was coming into 
view around the curve. 

In a moment all was stir and confusion, seven women 
wanting attention at once, and imperious men of the world 
crying out against railroad regulations. Billy hustled 
everywhere, transferring bags and suit cases with in¬ 
credible rapidity to the other train, which arrived 
promptly, securing a double seat for the fat woman with 
the canary, and the poodle in a big basket, depositing the 
baggage of a pretty lady on the shady side, making him¬ 
self generally useful to the opulent looking man with the 
jewelled rings; and back again for another lot. A whole 
dollar and fifteen cents jingled in his grimy pocket as 
the trains finally moved off in their separate directions 
and the peace of Pleasant View settled down monoton¬ 
ously once more. 

Billy gave a hurried glance about him. The station 
agent was busy with another batch of trunks, but the 
heavy one was nowhere to be seen. He gave a quick glance 
through the grated window where the telegraph instru¬ 
ment was clicking away sleepily, but no one was there. 
Then a stir among the pines below the track attracted his 
attention, and stepping to the edge of the bank he caught 
a glimpse of a broad dusty back lumbering hurriedly 
down among the branches. 

With a flirt of his eye back to the absorbed station 
agent Billy was off down the mountain after the heavy 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


one, walking stealthily as any cat, pausing in alert atten¬ 
tion, listening, peering out eerily whenever he came to a 
break in the undergrowth. Like a young mole burrowing 
he wove his way under branches the larger man must 
have turned aside, and so his going was as silent as the air. 
Now and then he could hear the crash of a broken branch 
or the crackle of a twig, or the rolling of a stone set free by 
a heavy foot, but he went on like a cat, like a little wood 
shadow, till suddenly he felt he was almost upon his prey. 
Then he paused and listened. 

The man was kneeling just below him. He could hear 
the labored breathing. There was a curious sound of 
metal and wood, of a key turning in a lock. Billy drew 
himself softly into a group of cypress and held his breath. 
Softly he parted the foliage and peered. The man was 
down upon his knees before a rough box, holding some¬ 
thing in his hand which he put to his ear. Billy could not 
quite see what it was. And now the man began to talk 
into the box. Billy ducked and listened: 

“Hello, Sam! You there! Couldn’t come any 
quicker, lots of passengers. Lots of freight. What’s 
doing, anyhow ? ” 

Billy could hear a faint murmur of words, now and 
then one gutteral burst out and became distinct, and 
gradually enough words pieced themselves together to 
become intelligible. 

“.Rich guy! High power machine. 

Great catch .... Tonight! .... Got a bet on to get 
there by sunrise.Can’t miss him! ” 

Billy lay there puzzled. It sounded shady, but what 
was the line anyway ? Then the man spoke. 

“ Sounds easy Sammy, but how we goin’ to kidnap a 
man in a high power machine? Wreck it of course, but 
he might get killed and where would be the reward? 
Besides, he’s likely to be a good shot—” 





10 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


The voice from the ground again growing clearer: 

“ Put something across the road that he’ll have to get 
out and move, like, a fallen tree, or one of you lie in the 
road beside a car as if you was hurt. Fm sending Shorty 
and Link. They’ll get there about eight o’clock. Beat him 
to it by an hour anyway, maybe more. Now it’s up to 
you to look after details. Get anyone you want to help till 
Shorty and Link get there, and pay ’em so in case anything 
gets them, or they’re late. I’ll keep you wise from time 
to time how the guy gets on. I’ve got my men on the 
watch along the line.” 

“ I’d like t’ know who I’d get in this God forsaken 
place!” growled the heavy one, “ Not a soul in miles 
except the agent, and he'd run right out and telegraph for 
the State constab. Say, Sammy, who is this guy any¬ 
way? Is there enough in it to pay for the risk? You 
know kidnapping ain’t any juvenile demeanor. I didn’t 
promise no such stuff as this when I said I’d take a hand 
over here. Now just a common little hold-up ain’t so bad. 
That could happen on any lonely mountain road. But this 
here kidnapping, you never can tell how its going to turn 
out. Might be murder before you got through, especially 
if Link is along. You know Link! " 

“ That’s all right, Pat, you needn’t worry, this’ll go 
through slick as a whistle, and a million in it if we work 
it right. The house is all ready—you know where—and 
never a soul in all the world would suspect. It’s far 
enough away and yet not too far—. You’ll make enough 
cut of this to retire for life if you want to Pat, and no 
mistake. All you’ve got to do is to handle it right, and 
you know your business.” 

“ Who’d you say he was? ” 

“ Shafton, Laurence Shafton, son of the big Shafton, 
you know Shafton and Gates.” 

A heavy whistle blended with the whispering pines. 

“ You don’t say? How much family? ” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


11 


“ Mother living, got separate fortune in her own right. 
Father just dotes on him. Uncle has a big estate on Long 
Island, plenty more millions there. I think a million is 
real modest in us to ask, don’t you? ” 

‘‘Where’s he goin’ to? What makes you think he’ll 
come this way ’stead of the valley road? ” 

“ ’Cause he’s just started, got all the directions for the 
way, went over it carefully with his valet. Valet gave me 
the tip you understand, and has to be in on the rake-off. 
It’s his part to keep close to the family, see ? Guy’s goin’ 
down to Beechwood to' a house party, got a bet on that he’ll 
make it before daylight. He’s bound to pass your moun¬ 
tain soon after midnight, see? Are you goin’ to do your 
part, or ain’t you? Or have I got to get a new agent down 
there ? And say! I want a message on this wire as soon as 
the job is completed. Now, you understand? Can you 
pull it off ? ” 

It was some time after the key clicked in the lock and 
the bulky form of the freight agent lumbered up through 
the pines again before Billy stirred. Then he wriggled 
around through the undergrowth until he found himself 
in front of the innocent looking little box covered over 
with dried grass and branches. He examined it all very 
carefully, pried underneath with his jack knife, discovered 
the spot where the wire connected, speculated as to where 
it tapped the main line, prospected a bit about the place 
and then on hands and knees wormed himself through the 
thick growth of the mountain till he came out to the 
huckleberry clump, and recovering his bicycle walked in¬ 
nocently up to the station as if it were the first time that 
day and enquired of the surly freight man whether a box 
had come for his mother. 

In the first place Billy hadn’t any mother, only an aunt 
who went out washing and had hard times to keep a decent 


n 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


place for Billy to sleep and eat, and she never had a box 
come by freight in her life. But the burly one did not know 
that. Just what Billy Gaston did it for, perhaps he did not 
quite know himself, save that the lure of hanging round a 
mystery was always great. Moreover it gave him deep 
joy to know that he knew something about this man that 
the man did not know he knew. It was always good to 
know things. It was always wise to keep your mouth shut 
about them when you knew them. Those were the two 
most prominent planks in Billy Gaston’s present platform 
and he stood upon them firmly. 

The burly one gave Billy a brief and gruff negative to 
his query and went on painting barrel labels. He was 
thinking of other matters, but Billy still hung around. He 
had a hunch that he might be going to make merchandise 
in some way of the knowledge that he had gained, so he 
hung around, silently, observantly, leaning on old 
rusty-trusty. 

The man looked up and frowned suspiciously: 

“ I told you NO! ” he snapped threateningly, “ What 
you standin’ there for? ” 

Billy regarded him amusedly as from a superior height. 

“ Don’t happen to know of any odd jobs I could get,” 
he finally condescended. 

“ Where would you expect a job around this dump? ” 
sneered the man with an eloquent wave toward the 
majestic mountain, “Busy little hive right here now, 
ain’t it? ” 

He subsided and Billy, slowly, thoughtfully, mounted 
his wheel and rode around the station, with the air of one 
who enjoys the scenery. The third time he rounded the 
curve by the freight agent the man looked up with a 
speculative squint and eyed the boy. The fourth time he 
called out, straightening up and laying down his brush. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


13 


“ Say, Kid, do you know how to keep yer mouth shut?” 

The boy regarded him with infinite contempt. 

“ Well, that depends! ” he said at last. “ If anybody’d 
make it worth my while.” 

The man looked at him narrowly, the tone was at once 
so casual and yet so full of possible meaning. The keenest 
searching revealed nothing in the immobile face of the 
boy. A cunning grew in the eyes of the man. 

“ How would a five look to you ? ” 

“ Not enough,” said the boy promptly, “ I need 
twenty-five.” 

“Well, ten then.” 

“ The boy rode off down the platform and circled the 
station again while the man stood puzzled, half troubled, 
and watched him: 

“ I’ll make it fifteen. What you want, the earth with a 
gold fence around it ? ” 

“ I said I needed twenty-five,” said Billy doggedly, 
lowering his eyes to cover the glitter of coming triumph. 

The thick one stood squinting off at the distant moun¬ 
tain thoughtfully, then he turned and eyed Billy again. 

“How’m I gonta know you’re efficient ?” he challenged. 

“Guess you’c’n take me er leave me,” came back the 
boy quickly. “ Course if you’ve got plenty help—” 

The man gave him a quick bitter glance. The kid was 
sharp. He knew there was no one else. Besides, how 
much had he overheard? Had he been around when the 
station telephone rang? Kids like that were deep. You 
could always count on them to do a thing well if they 
undertook it. 

“ Well, mebbe I’ll try you. You gotta be on hand 
t’night at eight o’clock sharp. It’s mebbe an all night job, 
but you may be through by midnight.” 

“ What doing? ” 

“ Nothing much. Just lay in the road with your wheel 


14 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


by your side and act like you had a fall an’ was hurt. I 
wanta stop a man who’s in a hurry, see? ” 

Billy regarded him coolly. 

“ Any shooting? ” 

“ Oh, no!” said the other, “Just a little evening up 
of cash. You see that man’s got some money that 
oughtta be mine by good rights, and I wantta get it.” 

“I see! ” said Billy nonchalantly, “ An’ whatcha gonta 
do if he don’t come across? ” 

The man gave him a scared look. 

“ Oh, nothin’ sinful son; just give him a rest fer a few 
days where he won’t see his friends, until he gets ready to 
see it the way I do.” 

“ H’m! ” said Billy narrowing his gray eyes to two 
slits. “ An’ how much did ya say ya paid down ? ” 

The man looked up angrily. 

“ I don’t say I pay nothing down. If you do the work 
right you get the cash t’night, a round twenty-five, and 
it’s twenty bucks more’n you deserve. Why off in this 
deserted place you ought ta be glad to get twenty-five cents 
fer doin’ nothin’ but lay in the road.” 

The boy with one foot on the pedal mounted sideways 
and slid along the platform slowly, indifferently. 

“ Guess I gotta date t’night,” he called over his 
shoulder as he swung the other leg over the cross bar. 

The heavy man made a dive after him and caught him 
by the arm. 

“ Look here, Kid, I ain’t in no mood to be toyed with,” 
he said gruffly, “ You said you wanted a job an’ I’m being 
square with you. Just to show I’m being square here’s 
five down.” 

Billy looked at the ragged green bill with a slight lift 
of his shoulders. 

“ Make it ten down and it’s a go,” he said at last with a 
take-it-or-leave-it air. “ I hadn’t oughtta let you ofFn 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


15 


less’n half, such a shady job as this looks, but make it a ten 
an’ I’ll close with ya. If ya don’t like it ask the station 
agent to help ya. I guess he wouldn’t object. He’s right 
here handy, too. I live off quite a piece.” 

But the man had pulled out another five and was 
crowding the bills upon him. He had seen a light in that 
boy’s eye that was dangerous. What was five in a case of 
a million anyway? 

Billy received the boodle as if it had been chewing gum 
or a soiled handkerchief, and stuffed it indifferently into 
his already bulging pocket in a crumple as if it were not 
worth the effort. 

“ A’rright. I’ll be here!” he declared, and mounting 
his wheel with an air of finality, sailed away down the 
platform, curved off the high step with a bump into the 
road and coasted down the road below the tunnel toward 
Monopoly, leaving Sabbath Valley glistening in the sun¬ 
shine off to the right. With all that money in his pocket 
what was the use of going back to Sabbath Valley for his 
lunch and making his trip a good two miles farther ? He 
would beat the baseball team to it. 

The thick one stood disconsolately, his grimy cap in 
his hand and scratched his dusty head of curls in a 
troubled way. 

** Gosh! ” he said wrathfully, “ The little devil! Now 
I don’t know what he’ll do. I wonder—! But what else 
could I do ? ” 


II 


Over in Sabbath Valley quiet sweetness brooded, 
broken now and again by the bell-like sound of childish 
laughter here and there. The birds were holding high 
carnival in the trees, and the bees humming drowsy little 
tunes to pretend they were not working. 

Most of the men were away at work, some in Monopoly 
or Economy, whither they went in the early morning in 
their tin Lizzies to a little store or a country bank, or a 
dusty law office; some in the fields of the fertile valley; 
and others off behind the thick willow fringe where lurked 
the home industries of tanning and canning and knitting, 
with a plush mill higher up the slope behind a group of 
alders and beeches, its ugly stone chimneys picturesque 
against the mountain, but doing its best to spoil the little 
stream at its feet with all colors of the rainbow, at 
intervals dyeing its bright waters. 

The minister sat in his study with his window open 
across the lawn between the parsonage and the church, a 
lovely velvet view with the old graveyard beyond and the 
wooded hill behind. He was faintly aware of the shouting 
of the birds in glad carnival in the trees, and the busy 
droning of the bees, as he wrote an article on Modern 
Atheism for a magazine in the distant world; but more 
keenly alive to the song on the lips of his child, but lately 
returned from college life in one of the great universities 
for women. He smiled as he wrote, and a light came in 
his deep thoughtful eyes. She had gone and come, and 
she was still unspoiled, mentally, physically, or spiritually. 
That was a great deal to have kept out of life in these days 
of unbelief. He had been almost afraid to hope that she 
would come back the same. 

i a 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


17 


In the cool sitting-room his wife was moving about, 
putting the house in order for the day, and he knew that 
on her lips also was the smile of the same content as well 
as if he were looking at her beloved face. 

On the front veranda Marilyn Severn swept the rugs and 
sang her happy song. She was glad, glad to be home again, 
and her soul bubbled over with the joy of it. There was 
happiness in the curve of her red lips, in the softly rounded 
freshness of her cheek and brow, in the eyes that held 
dancing lights like stars, and in every gleaming tendril of 
her wonderful bright hair that burst forth from under 
the naive little sweeping cap that sat on her head like a 
crown. She was small, lithe, graceful, and she vibrated 
joy, health, eagerness in every glance of her eye, every 
motion of her lovely hands. 

Down the street suddenly sounded a car. Not the 
rattling, cheap affairs that were commonly used in those 
parts for hard work and dress affairs, with a tramp 
snuffle and bark as they bounced along beneath the maples 
like house dogs that knew their business and made as 
much noise about it as they could; but a car with a purr like 
a soft petted cat by the fire, yet a power behind the purr 
that might have belonged to a lion if the need for power 
arose. It stole down the street like a thing of the world, 
well oiled and perfect in its way, and not needing to make 
any clatter about its going. The very quietness of it made 
the minister look up, sent the minister’s wife to raise the 
shade of the sitting-room window, and caused the girl to 
look up from her task. 

The morning flooded her face, the song was stayed, a 
great light came into her eyes. 

The man who was driving the car had the air of not 
expecting to stop at the parsonage. Even when he saw the 
girl on the porch he held to his way, and something hard 
and cold and infinitely sad settled down over his face. It 
2 


18 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


even looked as though he did not intend to recognize her, 
or perhaps wasn’t sure whether she would recognize him. 
There was a moment’s breathless suspense and the car 
slid just the fraction past the gate in the hedge, without 
a sign of stopping, only a lifting of a correct looking straw 
hat that somehow seemed a bit out of place in Sabbath j 
Valley. But Lynn left no doubt in his mind whether 
she would recognize him. She dropped her broom and 
sped down the. path, and the car came to an abrupt halt, 
only a hair’s breadth past the gate,—but still—that 
hair’s breadth. 

“ Oh, Mark, I’m so glad to see you! ” she cried genu- J 
inely with her hand out in welcome, “ They said you were 
not at home.” 

The boy’s voice—he had been a boy when she left him, 
though now he looi.ed strangely hard and old like a man of 
the world—was husky as he answered gravely, swinging 
himself down on the walk beside her: 

“ I just got in late last njght. How are you Lynn? 
You’re looking fine.” 

He took her offered hand, and clasped it for a brief 
instant in a warm strong pressure, but dropped it again 
and there was a quick cold withdrawing of his eyes that 
she did not understand. The old Mark Carter would never 
have looked at her coolly, impersonally like that. What 
was it, was he shy of her after the long separation? Four 
years was a long time, of course, but there had been 
occasional letters. He had always been away when she 
was at home, and she had been home very little between 
her school years. There had been summer sessions twice 
and once father and mother had come to her and they had 
taken a wonderful trip together. But always there had 
seemed to be Mark Carter, her old friend and playmate, in 
the background. Now, suddenly he seemed to be removed 
to indefinite distances. It was as if she were looking at a 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


19 


picture that purported to be her friend, yet seemed a 
travesty, like one wearing a mask. She stood in the sun¬ 
light looking at him, in her quaint little cap and a long 
white enveloping house apron, and she seemed to him like 
a haloed saint. Something like worship shone in his eyes, 
but he kept the mask down, and looked at her with the 
eyes of a stranger while he talked, and smiled a stiff 
conventional smile. But a look of anguish grew in his 
young face, like the sorrow of something primeval, such as 
a great rock in a desert. 

The minister had forgotten his article and was watch¬ 
ing them through the window, the tall handsome youth, his 
head bared with the glint of the sun on his short cropped 
gold curls making one think of a young prince, yet a prince 
bound under a spell and frozen in a block of ice. He was 
handsome as Adonis, every feature perfect, and striking in 
its manly beauty, yet there was nothing feminine about 
him. The minister was conscious of all this as he watched 
—this boy whom he had seen grow up, and this girl of his 
heart. A great still question came into the father’s look 
as he watched. 

The minister was conscious of Lynn’s mother standing 
in the doorway just behind him, although she had made no 
noise in entering. And at once she knew he was aware of 
her presence. 

“ Isn’t that Mark Carter?” she asked just above 
a breath. 

He nodded. 

“ And she doesn’t know! You haven’t told her? ” 

The minister shook his head. 

“ He will tell her. See, he is telling her now! ” 

The mother drew a shade nearer. 

“But how do you know? See, she is doing the 
talking. You think he will tell her? What will he tell 
her, Graham? ” 


20 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ Oh, he will not tell her in words, but every atom of 
his being is telling her now. Can’t you see ? He is telling 
her that he is no longer worthy to be her equal. He is 
telling her that something has gone wrong.” 

“ Graham, what do you think is the matter with him ? 
Do you think he is—BAD? ” She lifted frightened eyes 
to his as she dropped into her low chair that always stood 
conveniently near his desk. 

A wordless sorrow overspread the minister’s face, yet 
there was something valiant in his eyes. 

“ No, I can’t think that I must believe in him in 
spite of everything. It looks to me somehow as if he was 
trying to be bad and couldn’t.” 

“Well, but—Graham, isn’t that the same thing? If 
he wants to be ? ” 

The minister shook his head. 

“ He doesn’t want to be. But he has some purpose in 
it. He is doing it—perhaps—well—it might be for her 
sake you know.” 

The mother looked perplexed, and hesitated, then 
shook her head. 

“ That would be—preposterous! How could he hurt 
her so—if he cared. It must be—he does not care—! ” 

“ He cares! ” said the man. 

“ Then how do you explain it? ” 

“ I don’t explain it.” 

“ Are you going to let it go on ? ” 

“ What can be done? ” 

“ I’d do something.” 

“ No, Mary. That’s something he’s got to work out 
himself. If he isn’t big enough to get over his pride. 
His self-consciousness. His—whatever he calls it— If he 
isn’t big enough—Then he isn’t big enough—!” The 
man sighed with a faraway patient look. The woman 
stirred uneasily. 

“ Graham,” she said suddenly lifting her eyes in 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


21 


troubled question, “ When your cousin Eugenie was here, 
you remember, she talked about it one day. She said we 
had no right to let Lynn become so attached to a mere 
country boy who would grow up a boor. She said he had 
no education, no breeding, no family, and that Lynn had 
the right to the best social advantages to be had in the 
world. She said Lynn was a natural born aristo¬ 
crat, and that we had a great responsibility bringing 
up a child with a face like hers, and a mind like 
hers, and an inheritance like hers, in this little anti¬ 
quated country place. She said it was one thing for you 
with your culture and your fine education, and your years 
of travel and experience, to hide yourself here if you 
choose for a few years, pleasing yourself at playing with 
souls and uplifting a little comer of the universe while you 
were writing a great book; but it was quite another for 
us to allow our gifted young daughter to know no other 
life. And especially she harped on Lynn’s friendship with 
Mark. She called him a hobbledehoy, said his mother was 
* common,’ and that coming from a home like that, he 
would never amount to anything or have an education. 
He would always be common and loaferish, and it wouldn’t 
make any difference if he did, he would never be cultured 
no matter how much education he had. He was not in her 
class. She kept saying that over. She said a lot of things 
and always ended up with that. And finally she said that 
we were perfectly crazy, both of us. That she supposed 
Lynn thought she was christianizing the boy or some¬ 
thing, but it was dangerous business, and we ought to be 
warned. And Graham, I’m afraid Mark heard it! He 
was just coming up on the porch as she finished and I’m 
almost sure he heard it! ” 

The eyes of the minister gave a startled flicker and then 
grew comprehending. “ I wondered why he gave up col¬ 
lege after he had worked so hard to get in.” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ But Graham! Surely, if he had heard he would have 
wanted to show her that she was wrong.” 

“ No, Mary. He is not built that way. It’s his one 
big fault. Always to be what he thinks people have 
labeled him, or to seem to be. To be that in defiance, 
knowing in his heart he really isn’t that at all. It’s a 
curious physchological study. It makes me think of nothing 
else but when the Prince of the Power of the Air wanted 
to be God. Mark wants to be a young God. When he 
finds he’s not taken that way he makes himself look like 
the devil in defiance. Don’t you remember, Mary, how 
when Bob Bliss broke that memorial window in the church 
and said it was Mark did it, how Mark stood looking de¬ 
fiantly from one to another of us to see if we would believe 
it, and when he found the elders were all against him and 
had begun to get ready for punishment, he lifted his fine 
young shoulders, and folded his arms, and just bowed in 
acquiescence, as if to say yes, he had done it? Don’t you 
remember, Mary? He nearly broke my heart that day, 
the hurt look in his eyes; the game, mistaken, little devil 1 
He was only ten, and yet for four long months he bore 
the blame in the eyes of the whole village for breaking that 
window, till Bob told the truth and cleared him. Not 
because he wanted to save Bob Bliss, for everybody knew 
he was a little scamp, and needed punishment, but because 
he was hurt —hurt way down into the soul of him to think 
anybody had thought he would want to break the window 
we had all worked so hard to buy. And he actually broke 
three cellar windows in that vacant store by the post office, 
yes, and paid for them, just to keep up his character and 
give us some reason for our belief against him.” 

The wife with a cloud of anxiety in her eyes, and dis¬ 
approval in her voice, answered slowly: 

“ That’s a bad trait, Graham. I can’t understand it. 
It is something wrong in his nature.” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


23 


“ Yes, Mary, it is sin, original sin, but it comes at him 
from a different direction from most of us, that’s all. It 
comes through sensitiveness. It is his reaction to a deep 
and mortal hurt. Some men would be stimulated to finer 
action by criticism, he is stimulated to defy, and he does 
not know that he is trying to defy God and all the laws of 
the universe. Some day he will find it out, and know that 
only through humility can he make good.” 

“ But he is letting all his opportunities go by.” 

“ I’m not so sure. You can’t tell what he may be doing 
out in the world where he is gone.” 

“ But they say he is very wild.” 

“ They were always saying things about him when he 
was here, and most of them were not true. You and I 
knew him, Mary. Was there ever a finer young soul on 
earth than he with his clear true eyes, his eager tender 
heart, his brave fearlessness and strength. I can not think 
he has sold his soul to sin—not yet. It may be. It may be 
that only in the Far Country will he realize it is God he 
wants and be ready to say, ‘ I have sinned ’ and ‘ I 
will arise/ ” 

“ But Graham, I should think that just because you 
believe in him you could talk to him.” 

“ No, Mary. I can’t probe into the depths of that 
sensitive soul and dig out his confidence. He would never 
give it that way. It is a matter between himself and God.” 

“ But Lynn—” 

“ Lynn has God too, my dear. We must not forget 
that. Life is not all for this world, either. Thank God 
Lynn believes that! ” 

The mother sighed with troubled eyes, and rose. The 
purring of the engine was heard. Lynn would be coming 
in. They watched the young man swing his car out into 
the road and glide away like a comet with a wild sophisti¬ 
cated snort of his engine that sent him so far away in a 


24 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


flash. They watched the girl standing where he had left 
her, a stricken look upon her face, and saw her turn slowly 
back to the house with eyes down—troubled. The mother 
moved away. The father bent his head upon his hand 
with closed eyes. The girl came back to her work, but the 
song on her lips had died. She worked silently with a far 
look in her eyes, trying to fathom it. 

The eyes of her father and mother followed her ten¬ 
derly all that day, and it was as if the souls of the three had 
clasped hands, and understood, so mistily they smiled at 
one another. 

Billy Gaston, refreshed by a couple of chocolate fudge 
sundaes, a banana whip, and a lemon ice-cream soda, was 
seated on the bench with the heroes of the day at the 
Monopoly baseball grounds. He wore his most nonchalant 
air,chewed gumwithhis usual vigor, shouted himself hoarse 
at the proper places, and made casual grown-up responses 
to the condescension of the team, wrapping them tenderly 
in ancient sweaters when they were disabled, and watching 
every move of the game with a practised eye and an im¬ 
mobile countenance. But though to the eyes of the small 
fry on the grass at his feet he was as self-sufficient as ever, 
somehow he kept having strange qualms, and his mind kept 
reverting to the swart fat face of Pat at the Junction, as 
it ducked behind the cypress and talked into the crude 
telephone on the mountain. Somehow he couldn’t forget 
the gloat in his eye as he spoke of the “ rich guy.” More 
and more uneasy he grew, more sure that the expedition 
to which he was pledged was not strictly “ on the square.” 

Not that Billy Gaston was afraid. The thrill of excite¬ 
ment burned along his veins and filled him with a fine ela¬ 
tion whenever he thought of the great adventure, and he 
gave his pocket a protective slap where the “ ten bones ” 
still reposed intact. He felt well pleased with himself to 
have made sure of those. Whatever happened he had that, 
and if the man wasn’t on the square Pat deserved to lose 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


25 


that much. Not that Billy Gaston meant to turn “ yellow ” 
after promising, but there was no telling whether the rest 
of the twenty-five would be forthcoming or not. He fell 
to calculating its worth in terms of new sweaters and base¬ 
ball bats. If worst came to worst he could threaten to 
expose Pat and his scheme. 

During the first and second innings these reflections 
soothed his soul and made him sit immovable with jaws 
grinding in rythmic harmony with the day. But at the 
beginning of the third inning one of the boys from his 
Sunday-school class strolled by and flung himself full 
length on the grass at his feet where he could see his pro¬ 
file just as he had seen it on Sunday while he was listening 
to the story that the teacher always told to introduce the 
lesson. He could see the blue of Lynn Severn’s eyes as 
she told it, and strangely enough portions of the tale came 
floating back in trailing mist across the dusty baseball 
diamond and obscured the sight of Sloppy Hedrick sliding 
to his base. It was a tale of one, Judas, who betrayed his 
best Friend with a kiss. It came with strange illogical 
persistence, and seemed curiously incongruous with the 
sweet air of summer blowing over the hard young faces 
and dusty diamond. What had Judas to do with a base¬ 
ball game, or with Billy Gaston and what he meant to do on 
the mountain that night ?—and earn good money—! Ah! 
That was it. Make good money! But who was he betray¬ 
ing he would like to know? Well if it wasn’t on the square 
perhaps he was betraying that same One — Aw— Rats! 
He wasn’t under anybody’s thumb and Judas lived centuries 
ago. He wasn’t doing any harm helping a man do some¬ 
thing he wasn’t supposed to know what. Hang it all! 
Where was Mark Carter anyway ? Somehow Cart always 
seemed to set a fella straight. He was like Miss Lynn. 
He saw through things you hadn’t even told him about. 
But this was a man’s affair, not a woman’s. 

Of course there was another side to it. He could give 


26 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


some of the money to Aunt Saxon to buy coal—instead of 
the sweater—well, maybe it would do both. And he could 
give some to that fund for the Chinese Mission, Miss Lynn 
was getting up in the class. He would stop on the way 
back and give her a whole dollar. He sat, chin in hand, 
gazing out on the field, quite satisfied with himself, and 
suddenly some one back by the plate struck a fine clean ball 
with a click and threw the bat with a resounding ring on 
the hard ground as he made for a home run. Billy started 
and looked keenly at the bat, for somehow the ring of it 
as it fell sounded curiously like the tinkle of silver. Who 
said thirty pieces of silver? Billy threw a furtive look 
about and a cold perspiration broke out on his forehead. 
Queer that old Bible story had to stick itself in. He could 
see the grieving in the Master’s eyes as Judas gave Him 
that kiss. She had made the story real. She could do that, 
and made the boy long somehow to make it up to that be¬ 
trayed Master, and he couldn’t get away from the feeling 
that he was falling short. Of course old Pat had said the 
man had money belonging to him, and you had to go 
mostly by what folks said, but it did look shady. 

The game seemed slow after that The two captains 
were wrangling over some point of rule, and the umpire 
was trying to pacify them both. Billy arose with well 
feigned languor and remarked, “ Well, I gotta beat it. 
Guess we’re gonta win all right. So long! ” and lounged 
away to his wheel. 

He purchased another soda at the drug store to get one 
of his fives changed into ones, one of which he stowed 
away in his breast pocket, while the remainder was stuffed 
in his trousers after the manner of a man. He bent low 
over his handle bars, chewing rythmically and pedaled 
away rapidly in the direction of Sabbath Valley. 


Ill 


The bells of the little stone church were playing tender 
melodies as he shot briskly down the maple lined street at 
a break neck pace, and the sun was just hovering on the 
rim of the mountain. The bells often played at sunset, 
especially Saturday evenings, when Marilyn Severn was 
at home, and the village loved to hear them. Billy wouldn’t 
have owned it, but he loved to hear those bells play better 
than anything else in his young life, and he generally 
managed to be around when they were being played. He 
loved to watch the slim young fingers manipulating the glad 
sounds. A genius who had come to the quiet hill village 
to die of an incurable disease had trained her and had left 
the wonderful little pipe organ with its fine chime of bells 
attached as his memorial to the peace the village had given 
him in his last days. Something of his skill and yearning 
had fallen upon the young girl whom he had taught. Billy 
always felt as if an angel had come and was ringing the 
bells of heaven when Marilyn sat at the organ playing 
the bells. 

This night a ray of the setting sun slanting through 
the memorial window on her bronze gold hair gave her 
the look of Saint Cecilia sitting there in the dimness of 
the church. Billy sidled into a back seat still chewing and 
watched her. He could almost see a halo in yellow gold 
sun dust circling above her hair. Then a sudden revulsion 
came with the thought of “ that guy Judas ” and the pos¬ 
sibility that he and the old fellow had much in common. 
But Bah! He would go to the mountain just to prove to 
himself that there was nothing crooked in it. 

The music was tender that night and Billy felt a strange 
constriction in his throat. But you never would have 

27 


28 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


guessed, as Lynn Severn turned at the end of her melody 
to search the dimness for the presence she felt had entered, 
that he had been under any stress of emotion, the way he 
grinned at her and sidled up the aisle. 

“ Yeah, we won awright,” in answer to her question, 

“ Red Rodge and Sloppy had ’em beat from the start. 
Those other guys can’t play ball anyway.” 

Then quite casually he brought forth the dollar from 
his breast pocket. 

“ Fer the Chinese Fund,” he stated indifferently. 

The look in her face was beautiful to see, almost as if 
there were tears behind the sapphire lights in her eyes. 

“ Billy! All this?” 

He felt as if she had knighted him. He turned red and 
hot with shame and pleasure. 

“ Aw, that ain’t much. I earned sommore too, fer 
m’yant.” He twisted his cap around on his other hand 
roughly and then blurted out the last thing he had meant 
to say: 

“ Miss Lynn, it ain’t wrong to do a thing you don’t 
know ain’t wrong, is it ? ” 

Marilyn looked at him keenly and laughed. 

“ It generally is, Billy, if you think it might be. Don’t 
ever try to fool your conscience, Billy, it’s too smart 
for that.” 

He grinned sheepishly and then quite irrelevantly 
remarked: 

“ I saw Cart last night.” 

But she seemed to understand the connection and 
nodded gravely: 

“Yes, I saw him a moment this morning. He said 
he might come back again this evening. ” 

The boy grunted contentedly and watched the warm 
color of her cheek under the glow of the ruddy sunset. f 
She always seemed to him a little bit unearthly in the star- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


29 


riness of her beauty. Of course he never put it to himself 
that way. In fact he never put it at all. It was just a fact 
in his life. He had two idols whom he worshipped from 
afar, two idols who understood him equally well and were 
understood by him, and for whom he would have gladly laid 
down his young life. This girl was one, and Mark Carter 
was the other. It was the sorrow of his young life that 
Mark Carter had left Sabbath Valley indefinitely. The 
stories that floated back of his career made no difference 
to Billy. He adored him but the more in his fierce young 
soul, and gloried in his hero’s need of faithful friends. 
He would not have owned it to himself, perhaps, but he 
had spoken of Mark just to find out if this other idol 
believed those tales and was affected by them. He drew a 
sigh of deep content as he heard the steady voice and knew 
that she was still the young man’s friend. 

They passed out of the church silently together and 
parted in the glow of red that seemed flooding the quiet 
village like a painting. She went across the stretch of 
lawn to the low spreading veranda where her mother sat 
talking with her father. Some crude idea of her beauty 
and grace stole through his soul, but he only said 
to himself: 

“ How,—kind of —little she is! ” and then made a dash 
for his rusty old wheel lying flat at the side of the church 
step. He gathered it up and wheeled it around the side of 
the church to the old graveyard, threading his way among 
the graves and sitting down on a broad flat stone where 
he had often thought .out his problems of life. The 
shadow of the church cut off the glow of sunset, and made 
it seem silent and dark. Ahead of him the Valley lay. 
Across at the right it stretched toward the Junction, and 
he could see the evening train just puffing in with a wee 
wisp of white misty smoke trailing against the mountain 
green. The people for the hotels would be swarming off, 




30 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


for it was Saturday night. The fat one would be there 
rolling trunks across and the station agent would presently 
close up. It would be dark over there at eight o’clock. The 
mountains loomed silently, purpling and steep and hazy 
already with sleep. 

To the left lay the road that curved up to the forks 
where one went across to the Highway and at right angles 
the Highway went straight across the ridge in front of 
him and sloped down to the spot where the fat one 
expected him to play his part at eight o’clock to-night. 
The Highway was the way down which the “ rich guy ” 
was expected to come speeding in a high power car from 
New York, and had to be stopped and relieved of money 
that “ did not belong to him.” 

Billy thought it all over. Somehow things seemed dif¬ 
ferent now. He had by some queer psychological process 
of his own, brought Lynn Severn’s mind and Mark 
Carter’s mind together to bear upon the matter and gained 
a new perspective. He was pretty well satisfied in his own 
soul that the thing he had set out to do was not “ on 
the level.” It began to be pretty plain to him that that 
“ rich guy ” might be in the way of getting hurt or per¬ 
haps still worse, and he had no wish to be tangled up in a 
mess like that. At the same time he did not often get a 
chance to make twenty-five dollars, and he had no mind 
to give it up. It was not in his unyellow soul to go back 
on his word without refunding the money, and a dollar of 
it was already spent to the “ Chinese Fund,” to say nothing 
of sundaes and sodas and whips. So he sat and studied the 
mountain ahead of him. 

Suddenly, as the sun, which had been for a long time 
slipping down behind the mountains at his back, finally 
disappeared, his face cleared. He had found a solution.' 

He sprang up from the cold stone, where his fingers 
had been mechanically feeling out the familiar letters of 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


31 


the inscription: “ Blessed are the dead—” and catching up 
the prone wheel, strode upon it and dashed down the 
darkening street toward the little cottage near the willows 
belonging to his Aunt Saxon. He was whistling as he went, 
for he was happy. He had found a way to keep his cake 
and eat it too. It would not have been Billy if he had not 
found a way out. 

Aunt Saxon turned a drawn and anxious face away 
from the window at his approach and drew a sigh of 
momentary relief. This bringing up boys was a terrible 
ordeal. But thanks be this immediate terror was past and 
her sister’s orphaned child still lived! She hurried to the 
stove where the waiting supper gave forth a pleasant odor. 

“ Been down to the game at M’nop’ly,” he explained 
happily as he flung breezily into the kitchen and dashed 
his cap on a chair, “ Gee! That ham smells good! Say, 
Saxy, whad-ya do with that can of black paint I left on the 
door step last Saturday ? ” 

“ It’s in a wooden box in the corner of the shed, 
Willie,” answered his Aunt, “Come to supper now. It’ll 
all get cold. I’ve been waiting most an hour.” 

“ Oh, hang it! I don’t s’pose you know where the 
brush is—Yes, I’m coming. Oh, here ’tis! ” 

He ate ravenously and briefly. His aunt watched him 
with a kind of breathless terror waiting for the inevitable 
remark at the close: “ Well, I gotta beat it! I gotta date 
with the fellas! ” 

She had ceased to argue. She merely looked distressed. 
It seemed a part of his masculinity that was inevitable. 

At the door he was visited with an unusual thoughtful¬ 
ness. He stuck his head back in the room to say: 

“ Oh, yes, Saxy, I might not be home till morning. I 
might stay all night some place.” 

He was going without further explanation, but her 
dismay as she murmured pathetically: 




32 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ But to-morrow is the Sabbath, Willie—! ” halted 
him once more. 

“ Oh, Til be home time fer Sunday-school,” he 
promised gaily, and was off down the road in the darkness, 
his old wheel squeaking rheumatically with each revolu¬ 
tion growing fainter and fainter in the night. 

But Billy did not take the road to the Junction in his 
rapid flight. Instead he climbed the left hand mountain 
road that met the Forks and led to the great Highway. 
Slower and slower the old wheel went, Billy puffing and 
bending low, till finally he had to dismount and put a drop 
of oil in a well known spot which his finger found in the 
dark, from the little can he carried in his pocket for such a 
time of need. He did not care to proclaim his coming as he 
crept up the rough steep way. And once when a tin Lizzie 
swept down upon him, he ducked and dropped into the 
fringe of alders at the wayside until it was past. Was that, 
could it have been Cart? It didn’t look like Cart’s car, but 
it was very dark, and the man had not dimmed his lights. 
It was blinding. He hoped it was Cart, and that he had 
gone to the parsonage. Somehow he liked to think of those 
two together. It made his own view of life seem stronger. 
So he slunk quietly up to the fork where the Highway 
swept down round a curve, and turned to go down across 
the ridge. Here was the spot where the rich guy would 
presently come. He looked the ground over, with his bike 
safely hidden below road level. With a sturdy set of 
satisfaction to his shoulders, and a twinkle of fun in his 
eye, he began to burrow into the undergrowth and find' 
branches, a fallen log, stones, anything, and drag them 
up across the great state highway till he had a com¬ 
plete barricade. 

There had come a silverness in the sky over the next 
eastern mountain, and lie could see the better what he was 
doing. Now and again he stopped cautiously and listened, 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


33 


his heart beating high with fear lest after all the rich guy 
might arrive before he was ready for him. When the 
obstruction was finished he got out a large piece of card 
board which had been fastened to the handle bars of 
his wheel, and from a box also fastened on behind his sad¬ 
dle he produced his can of paint and a brush. The moon 
was beginning to show off at his right, and gave a faint 
luminus gleam, as he daubed his letters in crudely. 
“DETOUR to SABBATH VALLEY. 

Rode flooded. Brige down.” 

His card was large, but so were his letters. Neverthe¬ 
less in spite of their irregularity he got them all on, and 
fastened the card firmly to the most obvious spot in the 
barricade. Then with a wicked gleam of mischief in his 
eye he looked off down the Highway across the ridge to 
where some two miles away one Pat must be awaiting his 
coming, and gave a single mocking gesture common to 
boys of his age. Springing on his wheel he coasted down 
the humps and into the darkness again. 

He reflected as he rode that no harm could possibly be 
done. The road inspector would not be along for a couple 
of days. It would simply mean that a number of cars 
would go around by the way of Sabbath Valley for a day 
or so. It might break up a little of the quiet of the Sabbath 
day at home, but Billy did not feel that that would 
permanently injure Sabbath Valley for home purposes, 
and he felt sure that no one could possibly ever detect his 
hand in the matter. 

The road at the forks led four ways, Highway, coming 
from New York and the Great North East, running North 
and South, and the Cross road coming from Economy 
and running through Sabbath Valley to Monopoly. He 
had made the Detour below the Cross Road, so that people 
coming from Economy would find no hindrance to their 
progress. He felt great satisfaction in the whole matter. 

3 




34 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


And now there remained but to do his part and get his 
money. He thought he saw a way to make sure of that 
money, and his conscience had no qualms for extracting it 
from so crooked a thief as Pat. 

The clock on the church tower at Sabbath Valley was 
finishing the last stroke of eleven when Billy came slickly 
up the slope of the road from Sabbath Valley, and arrived 
on the station platform nonchalantly. 

By the light of the moon he could dimly see Pat , 
standing uneasily off by the tracks, and the heads of two 
men down below in the bushes near the lower end of the 
Highway where it crossed the tracks and swept on South 
between two mountains. 

Pat held his watch in his hand and looked very ugly, 
but nothing fazed Billy. He didn’t have to carry this thing 
out if he didn’t want to, and the man knew he knew too 
much to be ugly to him. 

“ There you are, you young Pill you! ” was Pat’s 
greeting, “ What kinduva time is this ’ere to be coming 
along to your expensive job? I said eight! ” 

“ Oh,” said Billy with a shrug and jumped to his wheel 
again, “ Then I guess I’ll be going back. Good night! ” 

“ Here! Wait up there, you young devil! You come 
mighty nigh dishing the whole outfit, but now you’re here, 
you’ll earn your ten bucks I was fool enough to give you, 
but nothing more, do you hear that ? ” and the man leered 
into his freckled young face with an ugly gun in his hand. 

Billy eyed the gun calmly. He had seen guns before. 
Moreover he didn’t believe the man had the nerve to shoot. 
He wasn’t quite so sure of the two dark shadows in the 
bushes below, but it was well to be on the safe side. 

“ Keep yer shirt on,” said Billy impertinently, “ and 
save yer powder. You don’t want the whole nation to 
know about this little affair of ours do you Pat? ” 

The wide one glared. 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


35 


“Well, you better not have anything like shooting 
going on, fer I’ve got some friends back here a little way 
waiting to joy ride back with me when my work’s over. 
They might get funny if they heard a gun and come 
too soon.” 

“ You little devil, you! I mighta known you’d give it 
away—! ” he began, but he lowered the gun perceptibly. 
“ Every little skunk like you is yella—yella as the devil—” 

But Pat did not finish his sentence, for Billy, with a 
blaze in his eyes like the lamps of a tiger, and a fierce young 
cat-like leap flew at the flabby creature, wrenched the gun 
out of his astonished hand, and before he could make any 
outcry held it tantalizingly in his face. Billy had never 
had any experience before wdth bullies and bandits except 
in his dreams; but he had played football, and tackled 
every team in the Valley, and he had no fear of anything. 
Moreover he had spent long hours boxing and wrestling 
with Mark Carter, and he was hard as nails and wiry as 
a cat. The fat one was completely in his hands. Of 
course those other two down across the tracks might have 
made trouble if Pat had cried out, but they were too far 
away to see or hear the silent scuffle on the platform. But 
Billy was taking no chances. 

“ Now, keep on yer shirt, Pat, and don’t make no out¬ 
cry. My friends can get here’s easy as yours, so just take 
it quiet. All you gotta do is take that remark back you 
just uttered. I ain’t yella, and you gotta say so. Themyou 
hand over those fifteen bones, and I’m yer man.” 

It was incredible that Pat should have succumbed, but 
he did. Perhaps he was none too sure of his friends in 
the bushes. Certainly the time was getting short and he was 
in a hurry to get to his job on the Highway. Also he had 
no mind for being discovered or interrupted. At any rate 
with a hoarse little laugh of pretended courage he put his 
hand in his baggy pocket and pulled out the bills. 



36 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ You win, Kid,” he admitted, “ I guess your'e all 
white. Anything to please the baby and get down to biz. 
Now, sonny, put that gun away, it don’t look well. Be¬ 
sides, I—got another.” He put his hand insinuatingly to 
his hip pocket with a grin, but Billy’s grin answered back: 

“ That’s all right, pard. I’ll just keep this one awhile j 
then. You don’t need two. Now, what’s wanted?” 

Pat edged away from the boy and measured him with 
his eye. The moon was coming up and Billy loomed large 
in the darkness. There was a determined set to his firm 
young shoulders, a lithe alertness about his build, and a 
fine glint in his eye. Pat was really a coward. Besides, 
Pat was getting nervous. The hidden telephone had called 
him several times already. He could hear even now in 
imagination its faint click in the moss. The last message 
had said that the car had passed the state line and would 
soon be coming to the last point of communication. After 
that it was the mountain highway straight to Pleasant 
View, nothing to hinder. It was not a time to waste in 
discussion. Pat dropped to an ingratiating whine. 

“ Come along then, Kid. Yes, bring your wheel. 
We’ll want it. Down this way, just over the tracks, so, 
see? We want you to fall off that there wheel an’ sprawl 1 
in the road like you had caught yer wheel on the track an’ , 
it had skidded, see? Try her now, and just lay there like 
you was off your feed.” 

Billy slung himself across his wheel, gave a cursory 
glance at the landscape, took a running slide over the tracks 
with a swift pedal or two and slumped in a heap, lying 
motionless as the dead. He couldn’t have done it more , 
effectively if he had practised for a week. Pat caught his 
breath and stooped over anxiously. He didn’t want a 
death at the start. He wouldn’t care to be responsible for 
a concussion of the brain or anything like that. Besides, 
he couldn’t waste time fooling with a fool kid when the 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


37 


real thing might be along any minute. He glanced anx¬ 
iously up the broad white ribbon of a road that gleamed 
now in the moonlight, and then pulling out his pocket flash, 
flooded it swiftly over Billy’s upturned freckled face that 
lay there still as death without the flicker of an eyelash. 
The man was panic-stricken. He stooped lower, put out a 
tentative finger, turned his flash full in the boy’s face 
again, and was just about to call to his helpers for aid 
when Billy opened a large eye and solemnly winked. 

Pat shut off his flash quickly, stuck it in his pocket 
backed off with a low relieved, “ All right Kid, you’ll do.I 
guess you’re all right after all, now you jest lay—! ” and 
slid away down the slope into the cypress clump. 

Billy with upturned face eyed the moon and winked 
again, as if to a friend up there in the sky. He was 
thinking of the detour two miles up the road. 

It was very pleasant lying there in the cool moonlight 
with the evening breeze blowing his rough hair and play¬ 
ing over his freckles, and with the knowledge of those 
twenty-four bucks safely buttoned inside his sweater, and 
that neat little gun in his pocket where he could easily close 
his fingers about it. The only thing he regretted was that 
for conscience sake he had had to put up that detour. It 
would have been so much more exciting than to have 
put up this all-night camouflage and wait here till dawn 
for a guy that wasn’t coming at all. He began to think 
about the “ guy” and wonder if he would take the detour 
to Sabbath Valley, or turn back, or perhaps try Economy. 
That would be disappointing. He would stand no chance 
of even hearing what like he was. Now if he went through 
Sabbath Valley, Red or Sloppy or Rube would be sure to 
sight a strange car, particularly if it was a high power 
racer or something of that sort, and they could discuss it, 
and he might be able to find out a few points about this 
unknown whom he was so nobly delivering for conscience 



38 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


shke—or Lynn Severn’s—from an unknown fate. Of 
course he wouldn’t let the fellows know he knew anything 
about the guy. 

He had lain there fifteen minutes and was beginning , 
to grow drowsy after his full day in the open air. If it j 
were not for the joke of the thing he couldn’t keep awake. 

Pat stole out from the weeds at the slope of the road 
and whispered sepulchraly: 

“ That’s all right, Kid, jest you lay there and hold that 
pose. You couldn’t do better. Yer wheel finishes the 
blockade. Nobody couldn’t get by if he tried. That’s the 
Kid! ’Clare if I don’t give you another five bucks t’morrer 
if you carry this thing through. Don’t you get cold 
feet now—! ” 

Billy uttered a guttural of contempt in his throat and 
Pat slid away to hiding once more. The distant bells 
struck the midnight hour. Billy thrilled with their sweet¬ 
ness, with the fact that they belonged to him, that he had 
sat that very evening watching those white fingers among 
the keys, manipulating them. He thought of the glint on 
her hair,—the halo of dusty gold in the sunshine above— 
the light in her eyes—the glow of her cheek—her delicate 
profile against the memorial window—the glint of her 
hair—it came back, not in those words, but the vision of ^ 
it—what was it like ? Oh—of course. Cart’s hair. The 
same color. They were alike, those two, and yet very dif¬ 
ferent. When he had grown a man he would like to be 
like Cart. Cart was kind and always understood when you 
were not feeling right. Cart smoothed the way for people 
in trouble—old women and animals, and well—girls 
sometimes. He had seen him do it. Other people didn’t 
always understand, but he did. Cart always had a reason. 
It took men to understand men. That thought had a good 
sound to the boy on his back in the moonlight. Although 
he felt somewhat a fool lying there waiting in the road 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


39 


when all the time there was that Detour. It would have 
been more a man’s job if there hadn’t had to be that 
Detour, but he couldn’t run risks with strange guys, and 
men who carried guns, not even for—well, thirty pieces of 
silver—! But hark! What was that ? 

There seemed to be a singing along the ground. Was 
he losing his nerve lying here so long? No, there it was 
again! It couldn’t be possible that he could hear so far as 
two miles up that road. It was hard and smooth macadam 
of course, that highway, but it couldn’t be that—what was 
it they called it?—vibrations?—would reach so far! It 
must be. He would ask Cart about that. 

The humming continued and grew more distinct, fol¬ 
lowed by a sort of throbbing roar that seemed coming tow¬ 
ard him, and yet was still very far away. It must be a car 
at the Detour. In a moment it would turn down the bumpy 
road toward Sabbath Valley, and very likely some of those 
old broken whiskey bottles along the way would puncture 
a tire and the guy would take till morning getting any¬ 
where. Perhaps he could even get away in time to come 
up innocently enough and help him out. A guy like that 
might not know how to patch a puncture. 

But the sound was distinctly coming on. Billy opened 
one eye, then the other, and hastily scanned the sky in 
either direction for an aeroplane, but the sky was as clear 
as crystal without a speck, and the sound was distinctly 
drawing nearer. 

A voice from the roadside hurtled sharply across: 

“Hist! There! He’s coming! Lay still! Remember 
you get five more bucks if you pull this off! ” 

A cold chill crept down Billy’s back on tiny needle- 
pointed fringe of feet like a centipede. There was a sudden 
constriction in his throat and a leaden weight on each 
eye. He could not have opened them if he had tried, for a 
great white light stabbed across them and seemed to be 





40 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


holding them down for inspection. The thing he had 
wanted to have happen had come, and he was frightened; 
frightened cold clear to the soul of him—not at the thing 
that was about to come, but at the fact that he had broken 
faith with himself after all; broken faith with the haloed * 
girl at the organ in the golden light; broken faith—for 
thirty pieces of silver! In that awful moment he was 
keenly conscious of the fact that when he got the other five 
there would be just thirty dollars for the whole! Thirty 
pieces of silver and the judgment day already coming on! 




IV 


Lynn Severn was restless as she sat on the porch in 
the cool dark evening and heard unheeding the small village 
sounds that stole to her ears. The laughter of two children 
playing hide and seek behind the bushes across the way; 
the call of their mother summoning them to bed. The 
tinkle of a piano down the street; the whine of a Victrola 
in another home; the cry of a baby in pain; the murmur of 
talk on the porch next door; the slamming of a door; the 
creak of a gate; footsteps going down the brick pavement; 
the swinging to and fro of a hammock holding happy lovers 
under the rose pergola at Joneses. She could identify them 
all, and found her heart was listening for another sound, 
a smooth running car that purred, coming down the street. 
But it did not come! 

By and by she slipped out and into the church, opening 
one window to let in the moonlight, and unlocking the organ 
by the sense of feeling. Her fingers strayed along the keys 
in tender wandering melodies, but she did not pull the 
stop that controlled the bells. She would have liked to 
play those bells and call through them to Mark across the 
mountains where he might be riding, call to tell him that 
she was waiting, call to ask him why he was so strangely 
aloof, so silent, and pale in his dignity; what had come 
between them, old friends of the years? She felt she could 
say with the bells what her lips could never speak. But the 
bells would cry her trouble to the villagers also, and she 
could not let them hear. So she played soft melodies of 
trust and hope and patience, until her father came to find 
her, and linking his arm in hers walked back with her 
through the moonlight, not asking anything, only seeming 
to understand her mood. He was that way always. He 

41 




42 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


could understand without being told. Somehow she felt 
it and was comforted. He was that way with everybody. 
It was what made him so beloved in his parish, which 
comprised the whole Valley, that and his great sincerity 
and courage. But always his sense of understanding 
seemed keenest with this flower-faced girl of his. He 
seemed to have gone ahead of her way always to see that 
all was right—or wrong—and then walked with her to be 
sure she did not stumble or miss her way. He never at¬ 
tempted to reason her out of herself, nor to minimize her 
trials, but was just there, a strong hold when she needed it. 
She looked up with a smile and slipped her hand in his. 
She understood his perfect sympathy, as if his own past 
youth were touching hers and making her know that what¬ 
ever it was she had to face she would come through. He 
was like a symbol of God’s strength to her. Somehow the 
weight was lifted from her heart. They lingered on the 
piazza together in the moonlight a few minutes, speaking 
quietly of the morrow and its duties, then they went into 
the wide pleasant living room, and sat down, mother and 
daughter near together, while the father read a portion: 

“ He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall 
abide under the shadow of the Almighty. 

“ I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my 
God; in him will I trust. 

“ Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and 
from the noisome pestilence. 

“He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings 
shalt thou trust." 

The words seemed to fill the room with a sweet peace, 
and to draw the hearts of the listeners as a Voice that is 
dear draws and soothes after a day of separation and tur¬ 
moil and distress. 

They knelt and the minister’s voice spoke familiarly 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


43 


to the Unseen Presence, giving thanks for mercies received, 
mentioning little throbbing personalities that belonged to 
them as a family and as individuals, reminding one of what 
it must have been in the days before Sin had come and 
Adam walked and talked with God in the cool of the even¬ 
ing, and received instruction and strengthening straight 
from the Source. One listening would instinctively have 
felt that here was the secret of the great strength of Lynn 
Severn’s life; the reason why neither college nor the world 
had been able to lure her one iota from her great and simple 
faith which she had brought with her from her Valley 
home and taken back again unsullied. This family altar 
was the heart of her home, and had brought her so near to 
God that she knew what she had believed and could not 
be shaken from it by any flippant words from lovely or 
wise lips that only knew the theory of her belief and 
nothing of its spirit and tried to argue it away with a fine 
phrase and a laugh. 

So Lynn went up to her little white chamber that 
looked out upon the quiet hills, knelt awhile beside the 
white bed in the moonlight, then lay down and slept. 

Out amongthe hills on the long smooth road in the white 
moonlight there shot a car like a living thing gone crazy, 
blaring a whiter light than the moonlight down the way, 
roaring and thundering as only a costly and well groomed 
beast of a machine can roar and thunder when it is driven 
by hot blood and a mad desire, stimulated by frequent 
applications from a handy flask, and a will that has never 
known a curb. 

He knew it was a mad thing he was doing, rushing 
across space through the dark at the beck of a woman’s 
smile, a woman who was another man’s wife, but a woman 
who had set on fire a whole circle of men of which he was 
a part. He was riding against all caution to win a bet, 



44 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


riding against time to get there before two other men who 
were riding as hard from other directions to win the 
woman who belonged to an absent husband, win her and run 
away with her if he could. It was the culmination of a 
year of extravagances, the last cry in sensations, and the 
telephone wires had been hot with daring, wild allurement, 
and mad threat in several directions since late the 
night before. 

The woman was in a great summer hotel where 
extravagances of all sorts are in vogue, and it' had been 
her latest game to call with her lute-like voice over the 
phone to three of her men friends who had wooed her 
the strongest, daring them all to come to her at once, prom¬ 
ising to fly with the one who reached her first, but if none 
reached her before morning dawned she remained a9 she 
was and laughed at them all. 

Laurence Shafton had closed with the challenge at 
once and given orders for his car to be ready to start in ten 
minutes. From a southern city about an equal distance 
from the lady, one Percy Emerson, of the Wellington- 
Emersons, started about the same time, leaving a trail of 
telegrams and phone messages to be sent after his de¬ 
parture. The third man, Mortimer McMarter, a hot¬ 
headed, hot-blooded scot, had started with the rest, for 
the lady knew her lovers well, and not one would refuse; 
but he was lying dead at a wayside inn with his car a heap 
of litter outside from having collided with a truck that was 
minding its own business and giving plenty of room to any 
sane man. This one was not sane. But of this happening 
not even the lady knew as yet, for Mortimer McMarter 
was not one to leave tales behind him when he went out 
of life, and the servants who had sent his messages were 
far away. 

The clock in the car showed nearly twelve and the 
way was long ahead. But he would make it before the 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


45 


dawn. He must. He stepped on the accelerator and shot 
round a curve. A dizzy precipice yawned at his side. He 
took another pull at the flask he carried and shot on wildly 
through the night. Then suddenly he ground on his 
brakes, the machine twisted and snarled like an angry beast 
and came to a stand almost into the arms of a barricade 
across the road. The young man hurled out an oath, and 
leaned forward to look, his eyes almost too blood-shot 
and blurred to read: 

“DETOUR to Sabbath Valley!” 

He laughed aloud. “ Sabbath Valley! ” He swore and 
laughed again, then looked down the way the rude arrow 
pointed, “Well, I like that! Sabbath Valley. That’ll be 
a good joke to tell, but I’ll make it yet or land in hell—! ” 
He started his car and twisted it round to the rougher 
road, feeling the grind of the broken glass that strewed 
the way. Billy had done his work thoroughly, and antici¬ 
pated well what would happen. But those tires were costly 
affairs. They did not yield to the first cut that came, 
and the expensive car built for racing on roads as smooth 
as glass bumped and jogged down into the ruts and 
started toward Sabbath Valley, with the driver pulling 
again at his almost empty flask, and swaying giddily in 
his seat. Half a mile farther down the mountain, the car 
gave a gasp, like the flitting soul of a dying lion, and came 
with sudden grinding breaks to a dead stop in the heart of 
a deep wood. 

Five minutes later another car, with a soft purring 
engine came up to the Crossroads from Economy, slowed 
just a fraction as it crossed the Highway, the driver looking 
keenly at the barricade, then stopping his car with a sudden 
jerk and swinging out. He turned a pocket flash on the 
big card board Billy had erected, its daubed letters still wet 
and blurring into the pasteboard. He looked a bit quizzical 




46 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


over the statement, “ RODE FLOODED, BRIGE 
DOWN/’ because he happened to know there was no 
bridge and nothing to flood the road for several miles 
ahead. He examined the barricade carefully, even down 
to the broken glass in the road, then deliberately, swiftly, 
with his foot kicked away the glass, cleared a width for 
his car, and jumping in backed up, turned and started 
slowly down the condemned road to investigate. Some¬ 
thing was wrong down the highway, and the sooner it was 
set right the better. There was one thing, he wished he 
had his gun with him, but then—! And he swung on 
down for two miles, going faster and faster, seeing 
nothing but white still road, and quiet sleeping trees, with 
looming mountains against the sky everywhere. Then, 
suddenly, across the way in the blare of his lights a white 
face flashed into view, and a body, lying full across the 
road, with a bicycle flung to one side completing the block. 
He brought his car to a quick stand and jumped out, but 
before he could take one step or even stoop, someone 
caught him from behind, and something big and dark 
and smothering was flung over his head. A heavy blow 
seemed to send him whirling, whirling down into infinite 
space, with a long tongue of living fire leaping up to 
greet him. 

“Beat it, Kid, and keep yer face shut!” hissed Pat 
into Billy’s ear, at the same time stuffing a bill into 
his hand. 

Billy had just sense enough left to follow the assisting 
kick and roll himself out of the road, with a snatch at 
his machine which pulled it down out of sight. He had a 
secret feeling that he was “ yellow ” after all in spite of 
his efforts, letting a guy get taken this way without even a 
chance to put up a fight. Where was that gun? He 
reached his hand into his pocket and was steadied by the 
feeling of the cold steel Then he knew that the mem were 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


47 


in the car and were about to start. They had dumped the 
owner into the back seat and were going to carry him off 
somewhere. What were they going to do? He must 
find out. He was responsible. He hadn’t meant to let 
anything like this happen. If everything wasn’t going to 
be on the square he might have to get into it yet. He must 
stick around and see. 

The men were having a whispered consultation over the 
car. They were not used to that kind, but a car was a car. 
They tried to start it with nervous glances down the road. 
It jerked and hissed and complained but began to obey. 
The wheels were beginning to move. In a flash it would 
be gone! 

Billy scrambled noiselessly up the bank behind the car, 
his move well covered by the noise of the engine. With 
a quick survey of the situation he tucked himself hastily 
into the spare tire on the back, just as the car gave a lurch 
and shot forward down across the tracks. He had all he 
could do to maintain his position and worm himself into a 
firmer holding for the first minute or two, and when he 
began to realize what he was doing he found his heart 
beating like a young trip hammer. He slid a groping hand 
into his pocket once more for reassurance. If anything 
really happened he had the gun. 

But his heart was heavy. Things had not gone right. 
He had planned to carry this thing through as a large joke, 
and here he was mixed up in a crooked deal if ever there 
was one. The worst of it was he wasn’t out of it yet. He 
wished he knew whose car this was and where they were 
bound for. How about the license tag? Gripping his 
unstable seat he swayed forward and tried to see it just 
below him. In the dim light it looked like a New York 
license. It must be the guy they were after all right,— 
they had telephoned about a New York man—yet —Cart 
had a New York license on his car! He was living in 



48 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


New York now,—and there must be lots of other guys—! 

A kind of sickening thud seemed to drop through his 
mind down to the pit of his stomach as he tried to think it 
out. His eyes peered into the night watching every familiar 
landmark—there was the old pine where they always 
turned off to go fishing; and yes, they were turning away 
from Economy road. Yes, they were going through 
Hackett’s Pass. A chill crept through his thin old sweater 
as the damp breath of ferns and rocks struck against his 
face. His eyes shone grim and hard in the night, suddenly 
grown old and stem. This was the kind of thing you read 
about in novels. In spite of pricks of conscience his spirits 
rose. It was great to be in it if it had to be. The conscious¬ 
ness of Sabbath Valley bathed in peaceful moonlight, all 
asleep, of the minister and his daughter, and Aunt Saxon, 
fell away; even the memory of bells that called to righteous¬ 
ness—he was out in the night on a wild ride and his soul 
thrilled to the measure of it. He fairly exulted as he re¬ 
flected that he might be called upon to do some great deed 
of valor—in fact he felt he must do a great deed of valor 
to retrieve his self respect after having made that balk 
about the detour. How did that guy get around the detour 
anyway? Some guy! 

Hackett’s Pass was far behind and the moon was 
going low when the car stopped for a moment and a hurried 
consultation took place inside. Billy couldn’t hear all that 
was said, but he gathered that time was short and the 
conspirators must be back at a certain place before morn¬ 
ing. They seemed somehow to have missed a trail that 
was to have cut the distance greatly. Billy clung breath¬ 
lessly to his cramped position and waited. He hoped they 
wouldn’t get out and try to find the way, for then some of 
them might see him, and he was so stiff he was sure he 
would bungle getting out of the way. But after a breath¬ 
less moment the car started on more slowly, and finally 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


49 


turned down a steep rough place, scarcely a trail, into the 
deeper woods. For a long time they went along, slower 
and slower, into the blackness of night it seemed. There 
was no moon, and the men had turned off the lights. There 
was nothing but a pocket flash which one of them carried, 
and turned on now and again to show them the way. The 
engine too was muffled and went snuffing along through 
the night like a blind thing that had been gagged. Billy 
began to wonder if he would ever find his legs useful 
again. Sharp pains shot through his joints, and he became 
aware of sleep dropping upon his straining eyes like a 
! sickening cloud. Yet he must keep awake. 

He squirmed about and changed his position, staring 
into the darkness and wondering if this journey was ever 
I to end. Now they were bumping down a bank, and slop¬ 
ping through water, not very deep, a small mountain 
j stream on one of the levels. He tried to think where it must 
be, but was puzzled. They seemed to have traveled part of 
the way in curves. Twice they stopped and backed up and 
seemed to be returning on their tracks. They crossed and 
recrossed the little stream, and the driver was cursing, and 
insisting on more light. At last they began climbing again 
and the boy drew a breath of relief. He could tell better 
where he was on the heights. He began to think of morn¬ 
ing and Sabbath Valley bathed in its Sabbath peace, with 
the bells chiming a call to worship—and he not there! 
Aunt Saxon would be crazy! She would bawl him out! 
He should worry! and she would weep, pink weak tears 
; from her old thin eyes, that seemed to have never done much 
else but weep. The thought turned and twisted in his soul 
like an ugly curved knife and made him angry. Tears 
f always made him angry. And Miss Lynn—she would 
e watch for him—! He had promised to be there! And she 
- would not understand—and there would come that grieved 
v look in her eyes. She would think—Oh, she would think he 







50 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


did not want to come, and did not mean to keep his promise, 
and things like that—and she would have to think them! 
He couldn’t help it, could he? He had to come along, 
didn’t he?” 

In the midst of his miserable reflections the car stopped 
dead on a level place and with a cold perspiration on his 
forehead Billy peered around him. They must have reached 
the top of a ridge, for the sky was visible with the morning 
star pinned against a luminous black. Against it a blacker 
shape was visible, half hid in trees, a building of some sort, 
solid, substantial, but deserted. 

The men were getting out of the car. Billy gripped 
the gun and dropped silently to the ground, sliding as 
stealthily into the shadows of the trees as if he had been 
a snake. 

Pat, stepped heavily to the ground and began to give 
directions in a low growl. Billy crouched and listened. 

“ Let’s get him shifted quick! We gotta beat it outta 
here! Link, it’s up to you an’ Shorty to get this car over 
the state line before light, an’ you’ll have to run me back 
to the Crossing first, so I can be at the station in time for 
the early train. That’ll be going some! ” 

“ Well, I guess anyhow not” said Link sullenly, 

“ Whadda ya think we are? Fools? Run you back to the 
Crossing in a pig’s eye. You’ll foot it back if you get 
there, er come with us. We ain’t gonta get caught with this 
car on our hands. What we gonta do with it anyhow, , 
when we get crost the state line ? ” 

“ Why, you run it into the field off behind that row of 
alders. Sam’s got a man on the lookout. They’ll have j 
that little old car so she won’t recognize her best friend 
before you can count three, so you should worry. And 
you’ll run me back or you won’t get the dough. See? I’ll ' 
see to that. Pat said I wasn’t to run no risks fer not bein’ ' 
back in time. Now, shift that guy’s feet out on myf 





THE CITY OF FIRE 


51 


shoulder. Handle him quick. Nope, he won’t wake up 
fer two hours yet. I give him plenty of dope. Got them 
bracelets tight on his feet? All right now. He’s some 
hefty bird, ain’t he? ” 

They moved away in the direction of the building, 
carrying a long dark shape between them, and Billy breath¬ 
less in the bushes, watched, turning rapid plans in his 
mind. Here he was in the midst of an automobile get¬ 
away! Many the time he had gone with Mark and the 
Chief of Police on a still hunt for car thieves, but this time 
he was of the party. His loyal young heart boiled hot with 
rage, and he determined to do what he could single-handed 
to stem the tide of crime. Just what he was going to do 
he was undetermined. One thing was certain, he must get 
the number of that license tag. He looked toward 
the house. 

The group had paused with their burden at the door 
and Pat had turned on his pocket flash light for just an 
instant as they fumbled with an ancient lock. In that 
instant the whole front of the old stone house was lit up 
I clearly, and Billy gasped. The haunted house! The house 
on the far mountain where a man had murdered his 
brother and then hanged himself. It had stood empty and 
closed for years, ever since Billy could remember, and was 
shunned and regarded with awe, and pointed out by 
hunters as a local point of interest. 

Billy regarded with contempt the superstition that 
hung around the place, but he gasped when he saw where 
: he was, for they must have come twenty miles round about 
: and it was at least ten across the mountains by the short cut. 
1 Ten miles from home, and he had to foot it! If he had 

I only brought old trusty! No telling now whether he would 
J ever see it again. But what were bicycles at such a time 

I I as this! 

The flash had gone out and the house was in darkness 

i 




52 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


again, but he could hear the grating of a rusty hinge as the 
door opened, and faint footfalls of rubbered feet shuffled 
on a dusty floor. Now was his time! He darted out to 
the back of the car, and stooping down with his face close 
to the license, holding his old cap in one hand to shelter 
it drew out his own pocket flash and turned it on the sign, 
registering the number clearly on his alert young mind. 
The flash light was on its last breath of battery, and blinked 
asthmatically, winking out into a thread of red as the boy 
pressed it eagerly for one more look. He had been so 
intent that he had not heard the rubbered feet till they were 
almost upon him, and he had barely time to spring back 
into the bushes. 

“ Hist! What was that ? ” whispered Pat, and the three 
stopped motionless in their tracks. Billy held his breath 
and touched the cold steel in his pocket. Of course there 
was always the gun, but what was one gun against three ? 



V 


The whistle of the Cannery at Sabbath Valley blew a 
relief blast five minutes ahead of midnight in deference to 
the church chimes, and the night shift which had been 
working overtime on account of a consignment of tomatoes 
that would not keep till Monday, poured joyously out into 
the road and scattered to their various homes. 

The outmost of these homegoers, Tom McMertrie and 
Jim Rafferty, who lived at the other extreme of the village, 
came upon a crippled car, coughing and crawling toward 
them in front of the Graveyard. Its driver, much sobered 
by lack of stimulant, and frequent necessity for getting out 
and pushing his car over hard bits of road, called to 
them noisily. 

The two workmen, pleasant of mood, ready for a joke, 
not altogether averse to helping if this proved to be “ the 
right guy,” halted and stepped into the road just to look 
the poor noble car over. It was the lure of the 
fine machine. 

“ Met with an accident? ” Jim remarked affably, as if 
it were something to enjoy. 

“ Had toire thrubble? ” added Tom, punching the col¬ 
lapsed tires. 

The questions seemed to anger the driver, who de¬ 
manded loftily: 

“ Where's your garage? ” 

“ Garage? Oh, we haven't any garage,” said Jim 
pleasantly, with a mute twinkle in his Irish eye. 

“ No garage ? Haven't any garage! What town is this, 
—if you call it a town? ” 

“ Why, mon, this is Sawbeth Volley! Shorely ye’ve 
heard of Sawbeth Volley! ” 


53 





54 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ No, I never heard of it!” said the stranger con¬ 
temptuously, “ but from what I’ve seen of it so far I should 
say it ought to be called Hell’s Pit! Well, what do you do 
when you want your car fixed ? ” 

“ Well, we don’t hoppen to hove a cyar,” said Tom 
with a meditative air, stooping to examine the spokes of a 
wheel, “ Boot, ef we hod mon, I’m thenkin’ we’d fix it! ” 

Jim gave a flicker of a chuckle in his throat, but kept 
his outward gravity. The stranger eyed the two male¬ 
volently, helplessly, and began once more, holding his rage 
with a cold voice. 

“ Well, how much do you want to fix my car? ” he 
asked, thrusting his hand into his pocket and bringing out 
an affluent wallet. 

The men straightened up and eyed him coldly. Jim 
turned indifferently away and stepped back to the side¬ 
walk. Tom lifted his chin and replied kindly: 

“Why, Mon, it’s the Sawbeth, didn’t ye know? I’m 
s'proised at ye! It’s the Sawbeth, an’ this is Sawbeth 
Volley! We don’t wurruk on the Sawbeth day in Sawbeth 
Volley. Whist! Hear thot, mon? ” 

He lifted his hand and from the stone belfry near-by 
came the solemn tone of the chime, pealing out a full round 
of melody, and then tolling solemnly twelve slow strokes. 
There was something almost uncanny about it that held 
the stranger still, as if an unseen presence with a convinc¬ 
ing voice had been invoked. The young man sat under 
the spell till the full complement of the ringing was 
finished, the workman with his hand up holding attention, | 
and Jim Rafferty quietly enjoying it all from the 
curb stone. 

When the last sweet resonance had died out, the 
Scotchman’s hand went slowly down, and the stranger 
burst forth with an oath: 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


55 


“ Well, can you tell me where I can go to get fixed up? 
I’ve wasted enough time already.” 

“ I should say from whut I’ve seen of ye, mon, that yer 
roight in thot statement, and if I was to advoise I’d say 
go right up to the parson, His loight’s still burnin’ in the 
windo next beyant the tchurtch, so ye’ll not be disturbin’ 
him. Not that he’d moind. He’ll fix ye up ef anybody 
cun; though I’m doubtin’ yer in a bad wy, only wy ye tak 
it. Good-night to ye, the winda wi’ the leight, mon, roight 
next beyant the tchurtch! ” 

The car began its coughing and spluttering, and slowly 
jerked itself into motion, its driver going angrily on his 
unthankful way. The two workmen watching him with 
amused expressions, waited in the shadow of a tree till 
the car came to a stop again in front of the parsonage, 
and a tall young fellow got out and looked toward the 
lighted window. 

“ Oh, boy! He’s going in! ” gasped Jim, slapping his 
companion silently on the back. “ Whatt’ll Mr. Severn 
think, Tommy? ” 

“ It’ll do the fresh laddie gude,” quoth Tom, a trifle 
abashed but ready to stand by his guns, “ I’m thenkin’ 
he’s one of them what feels they owns the airth, an’ is 
bound to step on all worms of the dust whut comes in thur 
wy. But Jim, mon, we better be steppin’ on, fer tomorra’s 
the Sawbeth ya ken, an’ it wuddent be gude for our souls if 
the parson shud cum out to investigate.” Chuckling away 
into the silent street they disappeared, while Laurence 
Shafton stalked angrily up the little path and pounded 
loudly on the quaint knocker of the parsonage. 

The minister was on his knees beside his desk, pray¬ 
ing for the soul of the wandering lad who had been dear 
to him for years. He had finished his preparation for the 
coming day, and his heart was full of a great longing. As 



56 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


he poured out his desire he forgot the hour and his need for 
rest. It was often in such companionship he forgot all 
else. He was that kind of a man. 

But he came to his feet on the instant with the knock, 
and was ready to go out on any errand of mercy that was 
needing him. It was not an unusual thing for a knock to 
come interrupting his midnight devotions. Sometimes the 
call would be to go far out on the mountain to some one 
who was in distress, or dying. 

The minister swung the door wide and peered into the 
night pleasantly almost as if to welcome an unexpected 
guest. In the sudden flood of the porch light his face was 
illumined, and behind him the pretty living room gave a 
sweet homely setting. The stranger stood for an instant 
blinking, half astonished; then the memory of his ren¬ 
dezvous at break of day brought back his irritation at 
the delay. 

“Are you Parsons?” he demanded, just as if 
“ Parsons ” were at fault that he had not been on 
hand before. 

“Parsons?” said Mr. Severn reflectively. “I don’t 
recall anyone of that name hereabouts. Perhaps you are 
on the wrong road. There is a Parsons at Monopoly.” 

“ Parsons is the name. Aren’t you Parsons? A couple 
of men down the road said you were, and that you could 
fix me up. They said right next the church and that your 
light was still burning.” The visitor’s tone was belligerent. 

Severn’s face cleared with a smile. 

“ Oh, they must have said ‘ Parson,’ they often call me 
that. Come in. What can I do for you? ” 

The young man eyed him coldly and made no move 
to enter. 

“ Parson or Parsons, it makes no difference does it ? 
Mr. Parson, if you’re so particular then, come out and look 
at my car. It seems to be in bad shape, and be quick about 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


57 


it. I’ve got over two hundred miles to make before day¬ 
break, so get a hustle on. I’ll pay you well if you don’t 
waste any time.” 

A queer look descended upon the minister in twinkles 
of amusement around his eyes and lips much like the smile 
that Tom MacMertrie had worn, only there was not a rag 
of hurt pride about it: With entire pleasantness he said: 
“ Just wait a moment till I get a light.” 

As he turned to go Shafton called after him: 

“ Oh, by the way, got anything to drink? I’m thirsty 
as the devil.” 

Severn turned, instant hospitality in his face. 

“ What will you halve? Water or milk? Plenty 
of both.” 

He smiled and Shafton looked at him in haughty 
amazement. 

“ Man! I said I wanted something to drink! ” he thun¬ 
dered, but don’t stand there all night doddering. I’ve got 
to get started! ” 

A slight lifting of the chin, a trifle of steel in the kind 
eyes, a shade of coolness in the voice, as the clear compre¬ 
hension of heaven had sifted the visitor, and the minister 
said, almost sternly: 

“ Oh, I see,” and disappeared through a swinging door 
into the pantry. 

It was about this time that Lynn Severn awoke to near 
consciousness and wondered what kind of a queer noisy 
guest her father had now. 

The minister was gone sometime and the guest grew 
impatient, stamping up and down the piazza and kicking 
a porch rocker out of his path. He looked at his watch 
and frowned, wondering how near he was to the end of 
his detour, and then he started in pursuit of his man, 
tramping through the Severn house as if it were a public 
garage, and almost running into the minister as he swung 



58 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


the door open. Severn was approaching with a lighted 
lantern in one hand and a plate of brown bread and butter, 
with a cup of steaming coffee in his other hand. 

Laurence Shafton stopped abruptly, a curse on his lips, 
but something, either the genial face of the minister, or 
the aroma of the coffee, silenced him. And indeed there 
was something about Graham Severn that was worth 
looking at. Tall and well built, with a face at once strong 
and sweet, and with a certain luminousness about it that 
almost seemed like transparency to let the spirit shine 
through, although there was nothing frail about his well 
cut features. 

Laurence Shafton, looking into the frank kind eyes of 
the minister suddenly became aware that this man had 
taken a great deal of trouble for him. He hadn’t brought 
any liquor, probably because he did not know enough of the 
world to understand what it was he wanted, or because he 
was playing a joke. As he looked into those eyes and 
noted with his half befuddled senses the twinkle playing 
at the corners he was not quite sure but the joke was on 
himself. But however it was the coffee smelled good and 
he took it and blundered out a brief “ Thanks.” 

Eating his brown bread and butter, the like of which 
had never entered his pampered lips before, and taking 
great swoops of the hot strong coffee he followed this 
strange new kind of a man out to the car in the moonlight, 
paying little heed to the careful examination that ensued, 
being so accustomed to ordering all his needs supplied and 
finding them forthcoming without delay. 

Finally the minister straightened up: 

“ I’m afraid you won’t go many miles to-night. 
You’ve burned out your bearings! ” 

“ Hell! ” remarked the young gentleman pausing be¬ 
fore the last swallow of coffee. 

“ Oh, you won’t find it so bad as that, I imagine,” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


59 


answered the steady voice of the minister. “ I can give 
you a bed and take care of you over to-morrow, and per¬ 
haps Sandy McPherson can fix you up Monday, although 
I doubt it. He’d have to make new bearings, or you’d 
have to send for some to the factory.” 

But Lawrence Shafton did not wait to hear the sue:- 
gestions. He stormed up and down the sidewalk in front 
of the parsonage and let forth such a stream of choice 
language as had not been heard in that locality in many a 
long year. The minister’s voice, cool, stern, commanding, 
broke in upon his ravings. 

“ I think that will be about all, sir! ” 

Laurence Shafton stopped and stared at the minister’s 
lifted hand, not because he was overawed, simply because 
never before in the whole of his twenty-four years had 
any one dared lift voice to him in a tone of command or 
reproof. He could not believe his ears, and his anger 
rose hotly. He opened his mouth to tell this insignificant 
person who he was and where to get off, and a few other 
common arguments of gentlemen of his class, but the 
minister had a surprising height as he stood in the moon¬ 
light, and there was that something strange and spiritual 
about him that seemed to meet the intention and disarm 
it. His jaw dropped, and he could not utter the words he had 
been about to speak. This was insufferable—! But there 
, was that raised hand. It seemed like some one not of this 
world quite. Lie wasn’t afraid, because it wasn’t in him to 
be afraid. That was his pose, not afraid of those he con¬ 
sidered his inferiors, and he did not consider that anyone 
was his superior. But somehow this was something new 
in his experience. A man like this! It was almost as P 
his mere being there demanded a certain homage. It 
was queer. The young man passed a hand over his hot 
forehead and tried to think. Then the minister’s voice 
went calmly on. It was almost as if he had not said that 


60 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


other at all. Perhaps he had not. Perhaps he dreamed 
it or imagined it. Perhaps he had been taking too much 
liquor and this was one of the symptoms—! Yet there 
still ringing in his ears—well his soul anyway,—were those 
quiet words, “ That will be about all, sir 1 ” Sternly. As 
if he had a right to speak that way to him! To Laurence 
Shafton, son of the great Wilson J. Shafton, of New 
York! He looked up at the man again and found a sort of 
respect for him dawning in himself. It was queer, but the 
man was—well, interesting. What was this he was saying 

“ I am sorry”—just as if he had never rebuked him at 
all, “ I am sorry that there seems to be no other way. If I 
had a car I would take you to the nearest railway station, 
but there are no trains to-night, not even twenty miles 
away until six in the morning. There are only four cars 
owned in the village. Two are gone off on a summer 
trip, the third is out of commission being repaired, and the 
fourth belongs to the doctor, who happens to be away on 
the mountain to-night attending a dying man. You see 
how it is.” 

The ydung man opened his mouth to curse once more, 
and strangely enough closed it again: Somehow cursing 
seemed to have lost its force. 

“ There is just one chance,” went on the minister 
thoughtfully, “ that a young man who was visiting his 
mother to-day may still be here. I can call up and find out. 
He would take you I know.” 

Almost humbly the great man’s son followed the min¬ 
ister back to the house and listened anxiously while he 
called a number on the telephone. 

“Is that you Mrs. Carter? Pm sorry if I have dis¬ 
turbed you. What? You hadn’t gone to bed yet? Oh. 
waiting for Mark? Then he isn’t there? That’s what I 
called up for. There is some one here in trouble, needing 
to be taken to Monopoly. I was sure Mark would help 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


61 


him out if possible. Yes, please, if he comes soon, ask him 
to call me. Just leave a note for him, can’t you? 
I wouldn’t sit up. Mark will take good care of himself. 
Yes, of course, that’s the mother of it. Well, good-night, 
Mrs. Carter.” 

The young man strode angrily out to the door, mutter¬ 
ing—but no words were distinct. He wanted to be away 
from the compelling calmness of those eyes that seemed to 
search him through. He dashed out the screen door, let¬ 
ting it slam behind him, and down the steps, intending to 
make his car go on at all odds until he reached another 
town somewhere. It had gone so far, it could go on a little 
farther perhaps. This country parson did not know about 
cars, how should he? 

And then somewhere right on the top step he made a 
false step and slipped, or was it his blindness of rage ? He 
caught at the vines with frantic hands, but as if they 
laughed at him they slipped from his grasp. His feet clat* 
tered against the step trying for footing, but he was too 
near the edge, and he went down straight into a little rocky 
nook where ferns and violets were growing, and a sharp 
jagged rock stuck up and bit him viciously as he slid and 
struggled for a firm footing again. Then an ugly twist 
of his ankle, and he lay in a humiliating heap in the shadow 
of the vines on the lawn, crying out and beginning to 
curse with the pain that gripped him in sharp teeth, and 
stung through his whole excitable inflammed being. 

The minister was there almost at once, bending over 
him. Somehow he felt as if he were in the power of some¬ 
body greater than he had ever met before. It was almost 
like meeting God out on the road somewhere. The min¬ 
ister stooped and picked him up, lightly, as if he had been 
a feather, and carried him like a baby, thrown partly over 
his shoulder; up the steps, and into that blasted house 
again. Into the bright light that sickened him and made 


62 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


the pain leap up and bring a mighty faintness. 

He laid him almost tenderly upon a soft couch, and 
straightened the pillows about him, seeming to know just 
how every bone felt, and how every nerve quivered, and 
then he asked a few questions in a quiet voice. What hap¬ 
pened? Was it your ankle? Here? Or here? All right. 
Just be patient a minute, I’ll have you all fixed up. This 
was my job over in France you know. No, don’t move. It 
won’t hurt long. It was right here you said. Now, wait 
till I get my bottle of lotion.” 

He was back in an instant with bandages, and bottle, 
and seemed to know just how to get off a shoe with the 
least trouble. 

An hour later the scion of a great New York family 
lay sleeping in the minister’s study, the old couch made up 
with cool sheets, and the swollen ankle comfortably 
bandaged with cool wet cloths. Outside in the moonlight 
the crippled car stood alone, and Sabbath Valley slept, 
while the bells chimed out a single solemn stroke. 



VI 


Billy was doing some rapid thinking while he stood 
motionless in the bushes. It seemed a half hour, but in 
reality it was but a few seconds before he heard a low 
whistle. The men piled rapidly into the car with furtive 
looks on either side into the dark. 

Billy gave a wavering glance toward the looming 
house in the darkness where the motionless figure had 
been left. Was it a dead man lying there alone, or was he 
only doped. But what could he do in the dark without 
tools or flash ? He decided to stick with the machine, for 
he had no desire to foot it home, and anyway, with his 
bicycle he would be far more independent. Besides, there 
was the perfectly good automobile to think about. If 
the man was dead he couldn’t be any deader. If he was 
only doped it would be some time before he came to, and 
before these keepers could get back he would have time to 
do something. Billy never doubted his responsibility in 
the matter. It was only a question of expediency. If he 
could just “ get these guys with the goods on them,” he 
would be perfectly satisfied. 

He made a dash for his seat at the back while the car 
was turning, and they were off at a brisk pace down the 
mountain, not waiting this time to double on their tracks, 
but splashing through the Creek only once and on up to 
the road again. 

Like an uneasy fever in his veins meantime, went and 
came a vision of that limp inert figure of the man being 
carried into the haunted house as it stood out 
in the flare of the flash light, one arm hanging 
heavily. What did that hand and arm remind him of? 
Oh—h! The time when Mark was knocked cold at the 

63 


64 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Thanksgiving Day Football game last year. Mark’s 
hand and arm had looked like that—he had held his 
fingers like that—when they picked him up. Mark had 
the base-ball hand! Of course that rich guy might have 
been an athlete too, they were sometimes. And of course 
Mark was right now at home and in bed, where Billy 
wished he was also, but somehow the memory of that still 
dark “ knocked cold ” attitude, and that hanging hand 
and arm would not leave him. He frowned in the dark and 
wished this business was over. Mark was the only living 
soul Billy felt he could ever tell about this night’s esca¬ 
pade, and he wasn’t sure he could tell him, but he knew if 
he did that Mark would understand. 

Billy watched anxiously for a streak of light in the 
East, but none had come as yet. The moon had left the 
earth darker than darkness when it went. 

He tried to think what he should do. His bicycle was 
lying in the bushes and he ought to get it before daylight. 
If they went near the station he would drop off and pick 
it up. Then he would scuttle through the woods and get to 
the Crossroads, and beat it down to the Blue Duck Tavern. 
That was the only place open all night where he could tele¬ 
phone. He didn’t like to go to the Blue Duck Tavern on 
account of his aunt. She had once made him promise 
most solemnly, bringing in something about his dead 
mother, that he would never go to the Blue Duck Tavern. 
But this was a case of necessity, and dead mothers, if they 
cared at all, ought to understand. He had a deep under¬ 
lying faith in the principle of what a mother—at any rate a 
dead mother—would be like. And anyhow, this wasn’t 
the kind of “ going ” to the Tavern his aunt had meant. 
He was keeping the spirit of the promise if not the letter. 
In his code the spirit meant much more than the letter—at 
least on this occasion. There were often times when he 
rigidly adhered to the letter and let the spirit take care of 
itself, but this was not one. 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


65 


But if, on the other hand they did not take Pat all the 
way back to the crossing by the station it would be even 
better for him, for the road on which they now were passed 
within a quarter of a mile of the Blue Duck Tavern, and 
he could easily beat the car to the state line, by dropping off 
and running. 

But suddenly and without warning it became apparent 
that Pat was to be let out to walk to the station crossing, 
and Billy had only a second to decide what to do, while Pat 
lumbered swearing down from the car. If he got off now 
he would have to wait till Pat was far ahead before he 
dared go after his wheel, and he would lose so much time 
there would be no use in trying to save the car. On 
the other hand if he stayed on the car he was liable to be 
seen by Pat, and perhaps caught. However, this seemed 
the only possible way to keep the car from destruction and 
loss, so he wriggled himself into his seat more firmly, 
tucked his legs painfully up under him, covered his face 
with his cap, and hid his hands in his pockets. 

“ You’ve plenty of time,” raged Pat, “You’ve only a 
little five miles run left. It’s a good half hour before light. 
You’re a pair of cowards, that’s whut ye are, and so I’ll 
tell Sam. If I get fired fer not being there fer the early 
milk train, there’ll be no more fat jobs fer youse. Now 
be sure ye do as you’re told. Leave the car in the first field 
beyond the woods after ye cross the state line, lift yer flash 
light and wink three times, count three slow, and wink 
three times more. Then heat it! And doncha ferget to go 
feed that guy! We don’t want he should die on us.” 

The engine began to mutter. Pat with a farewell 
string of oaths rolled off down the road, too sleepy to 
look behind, and Billy held his breath and ducked low till 
the rolling Pat was one with the deep gray of the morning. 

The first streak of light was beginning to show in the 
East, and the all-night revellers at the Blue Duck were in the 



66 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


last stages of going home after a more than usually exciting 
season, when Billy like the hardened promise-breaker he 
felt himself to be, boldly slid in at the door and disappeared 
inside the telephone booth behind the last row of tables in 
the corner. For leave it to a boy, even though he be not a 
frequenter of a place, to know where everything needful is 
to be found! 

He had to wait several minutes to get the Chief of 
Police in Economy, and while he waited two gaunt 
habitues of the Tavern slid into seats at the table to the 
left of the booth, ordered drinks and began to discuss 
something in a low tone. Billy paid no heed till he hap¬ 
pened to hear his friend’s name: 

“ Yep, I seen Mark come in with Cherry early in the 
evening. He set right over there and gotter some drink. 
The girl was mad because he wouldn’t get her what she 
wanted to drink. I happened to be settin’ direckly in front 
and I heard her gassin’ about it. She tossed her head and 
made her eyes look little and ugly like a pig, and once she 
got up to go, and he grabbed her hands and made her set 
down; and just set there fer sometime alookin’ at her hard 
an’ holdin’ her han’s and chewin’ the rag at her. I don’t 
know what all they was sayin,’ fer he talked mighty low, 
an’ Ike called me to take a hand in the game over tother side 
the room, so I didn’t know no more till I see him an’ Cherry 
beatin’ it out the side door, an’ Dolphin standin’ over acrost 
by the desk lampin’ ’em with his ugly look, an’ pretty quick, 
Dolph he slid out the other door an’ was gone quite some 
time. When he come back Cherry was with him, laughin’ 
and makin’ eyes, and vampin’ away like she always does, 
an’ him an’ her danced a lot after that—” 

A voice on the end of the wire broke in upon this amaz¬ 
ing conversation, and Billy with difficulty adjusted his 
jaded mind to the matter in hand: 


THE CITY^OF FIRE 


67 


“ Z’is the Chief? Say, Chief, a coupla guys stole a 
machine—Holes-Mowbrays—license number 6362656-W 
—Got that? New York tag. They’re on their way over to 
the State Line beyond the Cross Roads. They’re gonta 
run her in the field just beyond the woods, you know. 
They’re gonta give a flash light signal to their pal, three 
winks, count three slow, and three winks more, and then 
beat it. Then some guy is gonta wreck the machine. It’s up 
to you and your men to hold the machine till I get the 
owner there. He don’t know it’s pinched yet, but I know 
where to find him, an’ he’ll have the license and can 
identify it. Where’ll I find you? Station House? 
’Conomy? Sure! I’ll be there soon’s I get ’im. What’s 
that? I? Oh, I’m just a kid that happened to get wise. 
My name? Oh rats! That don’t cut any ice now! You 
get on yer job! They must be almost there by now. I 
gotta beat it! Gub-bye! ” 

Billy was all there even if he had been up all night. He 
hung up with a click, for he was anxious to hear what the 
men were saying. They had finished their glasses and 
were preparing to leave. The old one was gabbling on in 
a querrilous gossipy tone: 

“ Well, it’ll go hard with Mark Carter if the man dies. 
Everybody knows he was here, and unless he can prove 
an alibi—! ” 

They were crawling reluctantly out of their haunts 
now, and Billy could catch but one more sentence: 

“ Well, I’m sorry fer his ma. I used to go to school 
with Mrs. Carter when we were kids.” 

They were gone out and the room suddenly showed 
empty. The waiter was fastening the shutters. In a 
moment more he would be locked in. Billy made a silent 
dash among the tables and slid out the door while the 
waiter’s back was turned. The two men were ambling 
slowly down the road toward Economy. Billy started on 





68 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


a dead run. His rubber soled shoes made no echo and he 
was too light on his feet to make a thud. He disappeared 
into the grayness like a spirit. He had more cause than 
ever now for hurry. Mark! Mark! His beloved Mark 
Carter! What must he do about it? Must he tell Mark? 
Or did Mark perhaps know? What had happened any¬ 
way? There had evidently been a shooting. That Cherry 
Fenner was mixed up in it. Billy knew her only by sight. 
She always grinned at him and said: “Hello, Billee! ,y in 
her pretty dimpled way. He didn’t care for her himself. 
He had accepted her as a part of life, a necessary evil. She 
wore her hair queer, and had very short tight skirts, and 
high heels. She painted her face and vamped, but that 
was her affair. He had heretofore tolerated her because 
she seemed in some way to be under Mark Carter’s recent 
protection. Therefore he had growled “Elio!” grimly 
whenever she accosted him and let it go at that. If it had 
come to a show down he would have stood up for her 
because he knew that Mark would, that was all. Mark 
knew his own business. Far be it from Billy to criticize 
his hero’s reasons. Perhaps it was one of Mark’s weak¬ 
nesses. It was up to him. That was the code of a “ white 
man ” as Billy had learned it from “ the fellas.” 

But this was a different matter. This involved Mark’s I 
honor. It was up to him to find Mark! 

Billy did not take the High road down from his detour. 
He cut across below the Crossroads, over rough ground, 
among the underbrush, and parting the low growing trees 
was lost in the gloom of the woods. But he knew every 
inch of ground within twenty miles around, and darkness 
did not take away his sense of direction. He crashed 
along among the branches, making steady headway 
toward the spot where he had left his bicycle, puffing and 
panting, his face streaked with dirt, his eyes bleared and 
haggard, his whole lithe young body straining forward 





THE CITY OF FIRE 


69 


and fighting against the dire weariness that was upon him, 
for it was not often that he stayed up all night. Aunt Saxon 
saw to that much at least. 

The sky was growing rosy now, and he could hear the 
rumbling of the milk train. It was late. Pat would not 
lose his job this time, for he must have had plenty of time 
to get back to the station. Billy wormed himself under 
cover as the train approached, and bided his time. 
Cautiously, peering from behind the huckleberry growth, 
he watched Pat slamming the milk cans around. He could 
see his bicycle lying like a dark skeleton of a thing against 
the gravel bank. It was lucky he got there before day, 
for Pat would have been sure to see it, and it might have 
given him an idea that Billy had gone with the automobile. 

The milk train came suddenly in sight through 
the tunnel, like a lighted thread going through a needle. 
It rumbled up to the station. There was a rattling of milk 
cans, empty ones being put on, full cans being put off, 
grumbling of Pat at the train hands, loud retorts of the 
train hands, the engine puffed and wheezed like a fat old 
lady going upstairs and stopping on every landing to rest. 
Then slamming of car doors, a whistle, the snort of the 
i engine as it took up its way again out toward the rosy sky, 
its headlight weird like a sick candle against the dawn, 
its tail light winking with a leer and mocking at the 
mountains as it clattered away like a row of gray ducks 
lifting webbed feet and flinging back space to the station. 

Pat rolled the loaded truck to the other platform ready 
for the Lake train at seven, and went in to a much needed 
rest. He slammed the door with a finality that gave 
Billy relief. The boy waited a moment more in the 
gathering dawn, and then made a dash for the open, sal¬ 
vaging his bicycle, and diving back into the undergrowth. 

For a quarter of a mile he and the wheel like two 
comrades raced under branches, and threaded their way 




70 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


between trees. Then he came out into the Highroad and 
mounting his wheel rode into the world just as the sun 
shot up and touched the day with wonder. 

He rode into the silent sleeping village of Sabbath 
Valley just as the bells from the church chimed out 
gently, as bells should do on a Sabbath morning when 
people are at rest, “One! Two! Three! Four! Five! ” 

Sabbath Valley looked great as he pedalled silently 
down the street. Even the old squeak of the back wheel 
seemed to be holding its breath for the occasion. 

He coasted past the church and down the gentle in¬ 
cline in front of the parsonage and Joneses, and the 
Littles and Browns and Gibsons. Like a shadow of the 
night passing he slid past the Fowlers and Tiptons and 
Duncannons, and fastened his eyes on the little white 
fence with the white pillared gate where Mrs. Carter lived. 
Was that a light in the kitchen window? And the barn 
that Mark used for his garage when he was at home, was 
the door open? He couldn’t quite see for the cyringa 
bush hid it from the road. With a furtive glance up and 
down the street he wheeled in at the driveway, and rode ) 
up under the shadow of the green shuttered white house. 

He dismounted silently, stealthily, rested his wheel 
against the trunk of a cherry tree, and with keen eyes for 
every window, glanced up to the open one above which 
he knew belonged to Mark’s room. Strong grimy fingers 
went to his lips and a low cautious whistle, more like a bird 
call issued forth, musical as any wild note. 

The white muslin curtains wavered back and forth in 
the summer breeze, and for a moment he thought a head 
was about to appear for a soft stirring noise had seemed 
to move within the house somewhere, but the curtains 
swayed on and no Mark appeared. Then he suddenly was 
aware of a white face confronting him at the downstairs 
window directly opposite to him, white and scared and— 





THE CITY OF FIRE 


71 


was it accusing? And suddenly he began to tremble. Not 
all the events of the night had made him tremble, but now 
he trembled, it was Mark’s mother, and she had pink rims 
to her eyes, and little damp crimples around her mouth 
and eyes for all the world like Aunt Saxon’s. She looked 
—she looked exactly as though she had not slept all night. 
Her nose was thin and red, and her eyes had that awful 
blue that eyes get that have been much washed with 
tears. The soft waves of her hair drooped thinly, and 
the coil behind showed more threads of silver than of 
brown in the morning sun that shot through the 
branches of the cherry tree. She had a frightened look, 
as if Billy had brought some awful news, or as if it was 
his fault, he could not tell which, and he began to feel 
that choking sensation and that goneness in the pit of his 
stomach that Aunt Saxon always gave him when she 
looked frightened at something he had done or was going 
to do. Added to this was that sudden premonition, and a 
memory of that drooping still figure in the dark up on 
the mountain. 

Mrs. Carter sat down the candle on a shelf and raised 
the window : 

“Is that you Billy?” she asked, and there were tears 
in her voice. 

Billy had a brief appalling revelation of Mothers the 
world over. Did all Mothers—women—act like that 
when they were fools ? Fools is what he called them in 
his mind. Yet in spite of himself and his rage and 
trembling he felt a sudden tenderness for this crumply, 
tired, ghastly little pink rimmed mother, apprehensive of 
the worst as was plain to see. Billy recalled like a flash 
the old man at the Blue Duck saying, “ I’m sorry for his 
ma. I used to go to school with her.” He looked at the 
faded face with the pink rims and trembling lips and had 
a vision of a brown haired little girl at a desk, and old Si 




72 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Appleby a teasing boy in the desk opposite. It came over 
him that some day he would be an old man somewhere 
telling how he went to school—! And then he asked: 

“Where’s Mark? Up yet?” 

She shook her head apprehensively, withholdingly. 

Billy had a thought that perhaps some one had beat 
him to it with news from the Blue Duck, but he put it from 
him. There were tears in her eyes and one was straggling 
down between the crimples of her cheeks where it looked as 
if she had lain on the folds of her handkerchief all night. 
There came a new tenderness in his voice. This was 
Mark’s mother, and this was the way she felt. Well, of 
course it was silly, but she was Mark’s mother. 

“Man up the mountain had n’accident. I thought 
Mark ud he’p. He always does,” explained Billy awk¬ 
wardly with a feeling that he ought to account for his 
early visit. 

“ Yes, of course, Mark would like to help! ” purred his 
mother comforted at the very thought of every day life and 
Mark going about as usual, “But—’’and the apprehension 
flew into her eyes again, “ He isn’t home. Billy, he 
hasn’t come home at all last night! I’m frightened to 
death! I’ve sat up all night! I can’t think what’s hap¬ 
pened—! There’s so many hold-ups and Mark will carry 
his money loose in his trousers pocket—!” 

Billy blanched but lied beautifully up to the occasion 
even as he would have liked to have somebody lie for him 
to Aunt Saxon: 

“Aw! That’s nothing! Doncha worry. He tol’ me he 
might have t’stay down t’Unity all night. There’s a fella 
down there that likes him a lot, an’ they had somekinduva 
blowout in their church last night. He mightuv had ta 
take some girl home out of town ya know, and stayed 
over with the fella.” 

Mrs. Carter’s face relaxed a shade: 

“Yes, I’ve tried to think that—!” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


73 


“Well, doncha worry, Mizz Carter, I’ll lookim up fer 
ya, I know ’bout where he might be.” 

“Oh, thank you Billy,” her face wreathed in waver¬ 
ing smiles brought another thought of school days and 
life and how queer it was that grown folks had been 
children sometime and children had to be grown folks. 

“Billy, Mark likes you very much. I’m sure he won’t 
mind your knowing that I’m worried, but you know how 
boys don’t like to have their mothers worry, so you 
needn’t say anything to Mark that I said I was worried, 
need you? You understand Billy. I’m not really wor¬ 
ried you know. Mark was always a good boy.” 

“Aw sure!” said Billy with a knowing wink. “He’s 
a prince! You leave it t’me, Mizz Carter!” 

“Thank you, Billy. I’ll do something for you some¬ 
time. But how’s it come you’re up so early? You haven’t 
had your breakfast yet have you?” 

She eyed his weary young face with a mother¬ 
ly anxiety: 

“Naw, I didn’t have no time to stop fer breakfast. 
Billy spoke importantly, “Got this call about the sick guy 
and had to beat it. Say, you don’t happen to know 
Mark’s license number do you ? It might help a lot, savin’ 
time ’f’l could tell his car at sight. Save stoppin’ to ast.” 

“Well, now, I don’t really—’’said the woman rumi- 
natively, “let me see. There was six and six, there were 
a lot of sixes if I remember—” 

“Oh, well, it don’t matter—” Billy grasped his wheel 
and prepared to leave. 

“Wait, Billy, you must have something to eat—” 

“Aw, naw, I can’t wait! Gotta beat it! Might 
miss ’im!” 

“Well, just a bite. Here, I’ll get you some cookies!” 

She vanished, and he realized for the first time that 
he was hungry. Cookies sounded good. 

She returned with a brimming glass of milk and a 



74 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


plate of cookies. She stuffed the cookies in his pockets, 
while he drank the milk. 

'‘Say,—” said he after a long sweet draught of the 
foaming milk, “Ya, aint got enny more you cud spare 
fer that sick guy, have ya? Wait, Fll save this. Got 
a bottle ?” 

“Indeed you won’t, Billy Gaston. You just drink that 
every drop. I’ll get you another bottle to take with you. 
I got extra last night ’count of Mark being home, and 
then he didn’t drink it. He always likes a drink of milk 
last thing before he goes to bed.” 

She vanished and returned with a quart of milk cold 
off the ice. She wrapped it well with newspapers, and 
Billy packed it safely into the little basket on his wheel. 
Then he bethought him of another need. 

“ Say, m’y I go inta the g’rage an’ get a screw driver? 
Screw loose on m’wheel.” 

She nodded and he vanished into the open barn door. 
Well he knew where Mark kept his tools. He picked 
out a small pointed saw, a neat little auger and a file 
and stowed them hurriedly under the milk bottle. Thus 
reinforced without and within, he mounted his faithful 
steed and sped away to the hills. 

The morning sun had shot up several degrees during 
his delay, and Sabbath Valley lay like a thing new born 
in its glory. On the belfry a purple dove sat glistening, 
green and gold ripples on her neck, turning her head 
proudly from side to side as Billy rode by, and when he 
topped the first hill across the valley the bells rang out six 
sweet strokes as if to remind him that Sunday School was 
not far off and he must hurry back. But Billy was try¬ 
ing to think how he should get into that locked house, and 
wondering whether the kidnappers would have returned to 
feed their captive yet. He realized that he must be wary, 
although his instinct told him that they would wait for 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


75 


dark, besides, he had hopes that they might have 
been “pinched. ” 

Nevertheless he approached the old house cautiously, 
skirting the mountain to avoid Pleasant Valley, and walk¬ 
ing a mile or two through thick undergrowth, sometimes 
with difficulty propelling the faithful machine. 

Arrived in sight he studied the surroundings care¬ 
fully, harbored his wheel where it would not be 
discovered and was yet easily available, and after recon- 
noitreing stole out of covert. 

The house stood gaunt and grim against the smiling 
morning. Its shuttered windows giving an expression of 
blindness or the repellant mask of death. A dead house, 
that was what it was. Its doors and windows closed on the 
tragedy that had been enacted within its massive stone 
walls. It seemed more like a fortress than a house where 
warm human faces had once looked forth, and where 
laughter and pleasant words had once sounded out. To 
pass it had always stirred a sense of mystery and weird¬ 
ness. To approach it thus with the intention of entering 
to find that still limp figure of a man gave a most 
overpowering sense of awe. Billy looked up with wide 
eyes, the deep shadows under them standing out in the 
clear light of the morning and giving him a strangely old 
aspect as if he had jumped over at least ten years during 
the night. Warily he circled the house, keeping close 
to the shrubbery at first and listening as a squirrel might 
have done, then gradually drawing nearer. He noticed 
that the down stairs shutters were solid iron with a little 
half moon peep hole at the top. Those upstairs were 
solid below and fitted with slats above, but the slats were 
closed of all the front windows, and all but two of the back 
ones, which were turned upward so that one could not 
see the glass. The doors, both back and front, were 
locked, and unshakable, of solid oak and very thick. A 



76 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Yale lock with a new look gave all entrance at the 
front an impossible look. The back door was equally im¬ 
pregnable unless he set to work with his auger and saw 
and took out a heavy oak panel. 

He got down to the ground and began to examine the 
cellar windows. They seemed to be fitted with iron bars 
set into the solid masonry. He went all around the house 
and found each one unshakable, until he reached the last 
at the back. There he found a bit of stone cracked and 
loosened and it gave him an idea. He set to work with 
his few tools, and finally succeeded in loosening one 
rusted bar. He was much hindered in his work by the 
necessity of keeping a constant watch out, and by his at¬ 
tempts to be quiet. There was no telling when Link and 
Shorty might come to feed their captive and he must not 
be discovered. 

It was slow work picking away at the stone, filing 
away at the rusty iron, but the bars were so close together 
that three must be removed before he could hope to crawl 
through, and even then he might be able to get no further 
than the cellar. The guy that fixed this house up for a 
prison knew what he was about. 

Faintly across the mountains came the echo of bells, 
or were they in the boy’s own soul? He worked away in 
the hot sun, the perspiration rolling down his weary dirty 
face, and sometimes his soul fainted within him. Bells, 
and the sweet quiet church with the pleasant daily faces 
about and the hum of Sunday School beginning! How 
far away that all seemed to him now as he filed and 
picked, and sweated, and kept up a strange something in 
his soul half yearning, half fierce dread, that might have 
been like praying only the burden of its yearning seemed 
to be expressed in but a single word, “Mark! Mark!” 

At last the third bar came loose and with a great sigh 
that was almost like a sob, the boy tore it out, and cleared 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


77 


the way. Then carefully gathering his effects, tools, 
milk bottle and cap together, he let them down into the 
dungeon-like blackness of the cellar, and crept in after 
them, taking the precaution to set up in place the iron 
bars once more and leave no trace of his entrance. 

Pausing cautiously to listen he ventured to strike a 
match, mentally belaboring himself at the wasteful way 
in which he had always used his flash light which was 
now so much needed and out of commission. The cellar 
was large, running under the whole house, with heavy 
rafters and looming coal pits. A scurrying rat started 
a few lumps of coal in the slide, and a cobwebby rope 
hung ominously from one cross beam, giving him a pass¬ 
ing shudder. It seemed as if the spirit of the past had 
arisen to challenge his entrance thus. He took a few steps 
forward toward a dim staircase he sighted at the farther 
end, and then a sudden noise sent his heart beating fast. 
He extinguished the match and stood in the darkness lis¬ 
tening with straining ears. That was surely a step he 
heard on the floor above! 


VII 


Laurence Shafton awoke late to the sound of church 
bells come alive and singing hymn tunes. There was 
something strangely unreal in the sound, in the utter still¬ 
ness of the background of Sabbath Valley atmosphere 
that made him think, almost, just for an instant, that he 
had stumbled somehow into the wrong end of the other 
world, and come into the fields of the blessed. Not that 
he had any very definite idea about what the fields of the 
blessed would look like or what would be going on there, 
but there was something still and holy between the voices 
of the bells that fairly compelled his jaded young soul to 
sit up and listen. 

“But at the first attempt to sit up a very sharp very 
decided twinge of pain caught him, and brought an as¬ 
sorted list of words which he kept for such occassions to 
his lips. Then he looked around and tried to take in the 
situation. It was almost as if he had been caught out of 
his own world and dropped into another universe, so dif¬ 
ferent was everything here, and so little did he remember 
the happenings of the night before. He had had trouble 
with his car, something infernal that had prevented his 
going farther—he recalled having to get out and push 
the thing along the road, and then two loutish men who 
made game of him and sent him here to get his car fixed. 
There had been a man, a queer man who gave him bread 
and butter instead of wine—he remembered that—and he 
had failed to get his car fixed, but how the deuce did he 
get landed on this couch with a world of books about him 
and a thin muslin curtain blowing into the room, and fan¬ 
ning the cheeks of a lovely rose in a long stemmed clear 
glass vase? Did he try to start and have a smash up? 

78 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


79 


No, he remembered going down the steps with the inten¬ 
tion of starting, but stay! Now it was coming to him. He 
fell off the porch! He must have had a jag on or he never 
would have fallen. He did things to his ankle in falling. 
He remembered the gentle giant picking him up as if he 
had been a baby and putting him here, but where was here ? 
Ah! Now he remembered! He was on his way to Opal 
Verrons. A bet. An elopement for the prize! Great stakes. 
He had lost of course. What a fool! If it hadn’t been for 
his ankle he might have got to a trolley car or train some¬ 
how and made a garage. Money would have taken him 
there in time. He was vexed that he had lost. It would have 
been great fun, and he had the name of always winning 
when he set out to do so. But then, perhaps it was just 
as well—Verrons was a good fellow as men went—he 
liked him, and he was plain out and out fond of Opal just 
at present. It would have been a dirty shame to play the 
trick behind his back. Still, if Opal wanted to run 
away with him it was up to him to run of course. 
Opal was rare sport and he couldn’t stand the idea of 
Smart-Aleck McMarter, or that conceited Percy Emerson 
getting there first. He wondered which had won. It 
made his fury rise to think of either, and he had promised 
the lady neither of them should. What was she think¬ 
ing of him by now that he had sent her no word of 
his delay? That was inexcusable. He must attend to 
it at once. 

He glanced around the pleasant room. Yes, there on 
the desk was a telephone! Could he get to it ? He sat up 
and painfully edged his way over to the desk. 

** Safely through another week, 

God has brought us on our way—” 

chimed the bells, 

“Let us now a blessing seek, 

Waiting in His courts to-day—” 




80 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


But Laurie Shafton had never sung those words in his 
life and had no idea what the bells were seeking to get 
across to him. He took down the receiver and called for 
Long Distance. 

“Oh day of rest and gladness!” 
pealed out the bells joyously, 

“ Oh day of joy and light! 

Oh balm for care and sadness. 

Most beautiful, most bright—” 

But it meant nothing to Laurie Shafton seeking a 
hotel in a fashionable resort. And when he finally got 
his number it was only Opal's maid who answered. 

“Yes, Mrs. Verrons was up. She was out walking on 
the beach with a gentleman. No, it was not Mr. Emerson, 
nor yet Mr. McMarter. Neither of those gentlemen had 
arrived. No, it was not Mr. Verrons. He had just tele¬ 
graphed that he would not be at the hotel until tomorrow 
night. Yes, she would tell Mrs. Verrons that he had met 
with an accident. Mrs. Verrons would be very sorry. 
Number one-W Sabbath Valley. Yes, she would write 
it down. What? Oh! The gentleman Mrs. Verrons was 
walking with? No, it was not anybody that had been 
stopping at the hotel for long, it was a new gentleman 
who had just come the night before. She hadn’t heard 
his name yet. Yes, she would be sure to tell Mrs. Ver¬ 
rons at once when she came in, and Mrs. Verrons would 
be likely to call him up!” 

He hung up the receiver and looked around the room 
discontentedly. A stinging twinge of his ankle added to 
his discomfort. He gave an angry snarl and pushed the 
wavering curtain aside, wishing those everlasting bells 
would stop their banging. 

Across the velvet stretch of lawn the stone church 
nestled among the trees, with a background of moun- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


81 


tains, and a studding of white gravestones beyond 
its wide front steps. It was astonishingly beautiful, and 
startlingly close for a church. He had not been so near 
to a church except for a wedding in all his young life. 
Dandy place for a wedding that would be, canopy over 
the broad walk from the street, charming architect¬ 
ure, he liked the line of the arched belfry and the slender 
spire above. The rough stone fitted well into the scenery. 
The church seemed to be a thing of the ages placed there 
by Nature. His mind trained to detect a sense of beauty 
in garments, rugs, pictures, and women, appreciated the 
picture on which he was gazing. Where was this any¬ 
way ? Surely not the place with the absurd name that he 
remembered now on the mountain Detour. Sabbath 
Valley! How ridiculous! It must be the home of some 
wealthy estate, and yet there seemed a rustic loveliness 
about it that scarcely established that theory. 

The bells had ceased. He heard the roll of a deep 
throated organ skillfully played. 

And now, his attention was suddenly attracted to the 
open window of the church where framed in English ivy 
a lovely girl sat at the organ. She was dressed in white 
with hair of gold, and a golden window somewhere back 
of her across the church, made a background of beaten 
gold against which her delicate profile was set like some 
young saint. Her white fingers moving among the keys, 
and gradually he came to realize that it was she who had 
been playing the bells. 

He stared and stared, filled with admiration, thrilled 
with this new experience in his blase existence. Who 
would have expected to find a beauty like that in a little 
out of the way place like this? His theory of a great 
estate and a rich man’s daughter with a fad for music in¬ 
stantly came to the front. What a lucky happening that 
he should have broken down close to this church. He 
6 


82 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


would find out who the girl was and work it to get invited 
up to her house. Perhaps he was a fortunate loser of his 
bet after all. 

As he watched the girl playing gradually the music 
entered his consciousness. He was fond of music, and 
had heard the best of the world of course. This was 
meltingly lovely. The girl had fine appreciation and much 
expression, even when the medium of her melody was 
clumsy things like bells. She had seemed to make them 
glad as they pealed out their melodies. He had not known 
bells could sound like happy children, or like birds. 

His meditations were interrupted by a tap on the door, 
followed by the entrance of his host bearing a tray: 

“ Good-morning,” he said pleasantly, “I see you’re 
up. How is the sprain? Better? Would you like me to 
dress it again ? ” 

He came over to the desk and set down the tray on 
which was beautifully brown buttered toast, eggs 
and coffee: 

“ I’ve brought you just a bite. It’s so late you won’t 
want much, for we have dinner immediately after church. 
I suppose you wouldn’t feel like going over to the service ?” 

“ Service? ” the young man drawled almost insolently. 

“ Yes, service is at eleven. Would you care to go 
over ? I could assist you.” 

“ Naw, I shouldn’t care to go,” he answered rudely, 
“I’m pulling out of here as soon as I can get that machine 
of mine running. By the way, I’ve been doing some tele¬ 
phoning”—he slung a ten dollar note on the desk. “ I 
didn’t ask how much it was, guess that’ll cover it. Now, 
help me to the big chair and I’ll sample your breakfast.” 

The minister picked up the young man easily and 
placed him in the big chair before the guest realized what 
was doing, and then turned and took the ten dollar bill 
between his thumb and finger and flipped it down in the 
young man’s lap. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


83 


“ Keep it,” he said briefly, “ It’s of no consequence.” 

“ But it was long distance,” explained the guest loftily, 
“ It’ll be quite a sum. I talked overtime.” 

“ No matter,” said the minister pulling out a drawer 
of the desk and gathering a few papers and his Bible. 
“ Now, would you like me to look at that ankle before I 
go, or will you wait for the doctor? He’s likely to be back 
before long, and I’ve left a call for him.” 

“ I’ll wait for the doctor,” the young man’s tone ap¬ 
proached the insolent note again, “ and by the way, I wish 
you’d send for a mechanician. I’ve got to get that 
car riinning.” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Severn, “ I’m afraid you’ll have to 
wait. The only one in this region that would be at all 
likely to help you out with those bearings is Carter. He 
has a car, or had one, of that make. He might happen to 
have some bearings, but it is not at all likely. Or, he 
could tow you ten miles to Monopoly. But Carter is not 
at home yet.” 

The young man fairly frothed at the mouth: 

“ Do you mean to tell me that there is no one can 
mend a broken machine around this forsaken dump? 
Where’s your nearest garage? Send for a man to come 
at once. I’m willing to pay anything,” he flourished a 
handful of bills. 

The minister looked at his watch anxiously: 

“ I’m sorry,” he said again, “ I’ve got to go to the 
service now. There is a garage at Monopoly and their 
number is 97-M. You can phone them if you are not 
satisfied. I tried them quite early this morning while you 
were still sleeping, but there was nothing doing. The 
truth is the people around this region are a little prejudiced 
against working seven days out of the week, although 
they will help a man out in a case like yours when they can, 
but it seems the repair man, the only one who knows about 
bearings, has gone fifty miles in another direction to a 


84 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


funeral and won’t be back till to-morrow morning. Now, 
if you’re quite comfortable I’ll have to leave you for a 
little while. It is time for my service to begin.” 

The young man looked at his host with astonishment. 
He was not used to being treated in this off-hand way. He 
could hardly believe his ears. Throw back his money and 
lay down the law that way! 

“ Wait! ” he thundered as the door was about to close 
upon the departing minister. 

Severn turned and regarded his guest quietly, 
questioningly: 

“ Who’s that girl over there in the window playing 
the organ ? ” He pulled the curtain aside and revealed a 
glimpse of the white and gold saint framed in the ivy. 
Severn gave a swift cold glance at the insolent youth and 
then answered with a slightly haughty note in his cour¬ 
teous voice, albeit a quiver of amusement on his lip: 

“ That is my daughter.” 

Laurence Shafton dropped the curtain and turned to 
stare at his host, but the minister had closed the door and 
was already on his way to church. Then the youth pulled 
back the curtain again and regarded the lady. The man’s 
daughter! And playing like that! 

The rich notes of the organ were rolling out into the 
summer day, a wonderful theme from an old master, 
grandly played. Yes, she could play. She had been well 
taught. And the looks of her! She was wonderful at this 
distance. Were these then wealthy people perhaps sum¬ 
mering in this quiet resort ? He glanced about at the simple 
furnishings. That was a good rug at his feet, worn in 
places, but soft in tone and unmistakably of the Orient. 
The desk was of fumed oak, somewhat massive and digni¬ 
fied with a touch of hand carving. The chairs were of the 
same dark oak with leather cushions, and the couch so 
covered by his bed drapery that he could not see it, but he 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


85 


remembered its comfort. There was nothing showy or 
expensive looking but everything simple and good. One 
or two fine old pictures on the wall gave evidence of good 
taste. The only luxury seemed books, rows and rows of 
them behind glass doors in cases built into the wall. They 
j lined each space between windows and doors, and in sev¬ 
eral spots reached to the ceiling. He decided that these 
people must have had money and lost it. These things 
were old and had perhaps been inherited. But the girl! 
She teased his curiosity. She seemed of a type entirely 
new, and most attractive. Well, here was good luck again! 
He would stay till church was out and see what she might 
I be like at nearer view. It might amuse him to play the 
invalid for a day or two and investigate her. Meantime, 
he must call up that garage and see what could be done for 
the car. If he could get it patched up by noon he might 
take the girl out for a spin in the afternoon. One could 
judge a girl much better getting her off by herself that 
way. He didn’t seem to relish the memory of that father’s 
smile and haughty tone as he said “ My daughter.” Prob¬ 
ably was all kinds of fussy about her. But if the girl had 
any pep at all she surely would enjoy getting away from 
oversight for a few hours. He hoped Opal would call 
before they got back from their service. It might be 
awkward talking with them all around. 

But the organ was suddenly drowned in a burst 
of song: 

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy 
Ghost, As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be—world 
without end, Amen! ” 

Somehow the words struck him with a strange awe, 
they were so distinct, and almost in the room with him. 
He looked about half feeling that the room was filled with 
people, and felt curiously alone. There was an atmos- 



86 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


phere in the little house of everybody being gone to church. 
They had all gone and left him alone. It amused him. 
He wondered about this odd family who seemed to be 
under the domination of a church service. They had left 
him a stranger alone in their house. The doors and win¬ 
dows were all open. How did they know but he was 
a burglar? 

Some one was talking now. It sounded like the voice 
of his host. It might be a prayer. How peculiar! He 
must be a preacher. Yet he had been sent to him to fix 
his car. He did not look like a laboring man. He looked 
as if he might be,—well almost anything—even a gentle¬ 
man. But if he was a clergyman, why, that of course 
explained the ascetic type, the nun-like profile of the girl, 
the skilled musician. Clergymen were apt to educate their 
children, even without much money. The girl would 
probably be a prude and bore, but there was a chance that 
she might be a princess in disguise and need a prince to 
show her a good time. He would take the chance at least 
until after dinner. 

So he ate his delicate toast, and drank his delicious 
coffee, and wished he had asked that queer man to have his 
flask filled at the drug store before he went to his old 
service, but consoled himself with numerous cigarettes, 
while he watched the face of the musician, and listened 
idly to the music. 

It was plain that the young organist was also the choir 
leader, for her expressive face was turned toward the 
singers, and her lovely head kept time. Now and then a 
motion of the hand seemed to give a direction or warning. 
And the choir too sang with great sweetness and ex¬ 
pression. They were well trained. But what a bore such 
a life must be to a girl. Still, if she had never known 
anything else—! Well, he would like to see her at closer 
range. He lit another cigarette and studied her profile as 


THE CITY OF FERE 


87 


she slipped out of the organ bench and settled herself 
nearer the window. He could hear the man’s voice read¬ 
ing now. Some of the words drew his idle attention: 

“All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but the 
Lord weigheth the spirits.” 

Curious sentence that! It caught in his brain. It 
seemed rather true. From the Bible probably of course, 
though he was not very familiar with that volume, never 
having been obliged to go to Sunday School in his child¬ 
hood days ? But was it true ? Were all a man’s ways clean 
in his own eyes? Take, for instance, his own ways? He 
always did about as he pleased, and he had never asked 
himself whether his ways were clean or not. He hadn’t 
particularly cared. He supposed some people would think 
they were not—but in his own eyes, well—was he clean? 
Take for instance this expedition of his? Running a race 
to get another man’s wife,—an alleged friend’s wife, too? 
It did seem rather despicable when one thought of it after 
the jag was off. But then one was not quite responsible 
for what one did with a jag on, and what the deuce did 
the Lord have to do with it anyway ? How could the Lord 
weigh the spirit? That meant of course that he saw 
through all subterfuges. Well, what of it? 

Another sentence caught his ear: 

“ When a man’s ways please the Lord, he maketh even his 
enemies to be at peace with him.” 

How odd, the Lord,—if there was a Lord, he had 
never thought much about it—but how odd, if there was 
a Lord for Him to care about a man’s ways. If he were 
Lord he wouldn’t care, he’d only want them to keep out of 
his way. He would probably crush them like ants, if he 
were Lord. But the Lord—taking any notice of men’s 
ways, and being pleased by them and looking out to pro¬ 
tect him from enemies! It certainly was quaint—a quaint 



88 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


idea! He glanced again at the reverent face of the girl, 
the down drooped eyes, the lovely sensitive mouth. 
Quaint, that was the word for her, quaint and unusual. 
He certainly was going to enjoy meeting her. 

“ Ting-aling-ling-ling! ” burst out the telephone bell 
on the desk. He frowned and dropped the curtain. Was 
that Opal? He hobbled to the desk painfully, half an¬ 
noyed that she had called him from the contemplation of 
this novel scene, not so sure that he would bother to call 
up that garage yet. Let it go till he had sampled the girl. 

He took down the receiver and Opal’s voice greeted 
him, mockingly, tauntingly from his own world. The 
little ivy leaved church with its Saint Cecilia at the organ, 
and its strange weird message about a God that cared for 
man’s ways, dropped away like a dream that was past. 

When he hung up the receiver and turned back to his 
couch again the girl had closed the window. It annoyed 
him. He did not know how his giddy badinage had 
clashed in upon the last words of the sermon. 

It seemed a long time after the closing hymn before 
the little throng melted away down the maple lined street. 
The young man watched them curiously from behind his 
curtain, finding only food for amusement in most of them. 
And then came the minister, lingering to talk to one here 
and there, and his wife—it was undoubtedly his wife, 
even the hare-brained Laurie knew her, in the gray 
organdie, with the white at her neck, and the soft white 
hat. She had a pleasant light in her eyes, and one saw at 
once that she was a lady. There was a grace about her 
that made the girl seem possible. And lastly, came the girl. 

She stepped from the church door in her white dress 
and simple white hat, white even to her little shoes, and 
correct in every way, he could see that. She was no 
country gawk! She came forth lightly into the sunshine 
which caught her hair in golden tendrils around her face 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


89 


as if it loved to hide therein, and she was immediately 
surrounded by half a dozen urchins. One had brought her 
some lilies, great white starry things with golden hearts, 
and she gathered them into her arms as if she loved them, 
and smiled at the boys. One could see how they adored her. 
She lingered talking to them, and laid her hand on one 
boy’s shoulder, he walking like a knight beside her trying 
to act as if he did not know her hand was there. His head 
was drooped, but he lifted it with a grin at last and gave 
her a nod which seemed to make her glad, for her face 
broke forth in another smile : 

“ Well, don’t forget, to-night,” she called as they 
turned to go, “ and remember to tell Billy! ” 

Then she came trippingly across the grass, a song on 
her lips. Some girl! Say! She certainly was a stunner l 



VIII 


Opal Verrons was small and slight with large child¬ 
like eyes that could look like a baby’s, but that could hold 
the very devil on occasions. The eyes were dark and lus¬ 
trous with long curling black lashes framing them in a face 
that might have been modeled for an angel, so round the 
curves, so enchanting the lips, so lofty the white brow. 
Angele Potocka had no lovelier set to her head, no more 
limpal fire in her eye, than had Opal Verrons. Indeed 
her lovers often called her the Fire Opal. The only dif¬ 
ference was that Angele Potocka developed her brains, of 
which she had plenty, while Opal Verrons had placed her 
entire care upon developing her lovely little body, though 
she too had plenty of brains on occasion. 

And she knew how to dress! So simply, so slightly 
sometimes, so perfectly to give a setting—the right setting 
—to her little self. She wore her heavy dark hair bobbed, 
and it curled about her small head exquisitely, giving her 
the look of a Raphael Cherub or a boy page in the court 
of King Arthur. With a flat band of silver olive leaves 
about her brow, and the soft hair waving out below, 
nothing more was necessary for a costume save a brief 
drapery of silver spangled cloth with a strap of jewels 
and a wisp of black malines for a scarf. She was always 
startling and lovely even in her simplest costume. Many 
people turned to watch her in a simple dark blue serge 
made like a child’s girded with a delicate arrangement of 
medallions and chains of white metal, her dark rough 
woollen stockings rolled girlishly below white dimpled 
knees, and her feet shod in flat soled white buckskin shoes. 
She was young enough to “ get away with it,” the older 
women said cattishly as they watched her stroll away to 
90 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


91 


the beach with a new man each day, and noted her art¬ 
less grace and indifferent pose. That she had a burly 
millionaire husband who still was under her spell and 
watched her jealously only made her more interesting, 
and they pitied her for being tied to a man twice her age 
and bulky as a bale of cotton. She who could dance like a 
sylph and was light on her little feet as a thistle down. 
Though wise ones sometimes said that Opal had her young 
eyes wide open when she married Ed Verrons, and she 
had him right under her little pink well manicured thumb. 
And some said she was not nearly so young as she looked. 

Her hands were the weakest point in Opal Verron’s 
whole outfit. Not that they were unlovely in form or 
ungraceful. They were so small they hardly seemed like 
hands, so undeveloped, so useless, with the dimpling of a 
baby’s, yet the sharp nails of a little beast. They were so 
plump and well cared for they were fairly sleek, and had 
an old wise air about them as she patted her puffy curls 
daintily with a motion all her own that showed her lovely 
rounded arm, and every needle-pointed shell-tinted finger 
nail, sleek and puffy, and never used, not even for a bit 
of embroidery or knitting. She couldn’t, you know, with 
those sharp transparent little nails, they might break. 
They were like her little sharp teeth that always reminded 
one of a mouse’s teeth, and made one shudder at how 
sharp they would be should she ever decide to bite. 

But her smile was like the mixing of all smiles, a 
baby’s, a woman-of-the-world, a grieved child’s, and a 
spirit who had put aside all moral purpose. Perhaps, like 
mixed drinks it was for that reason but the more intoxi¬ 
cating. And because she did not hide her charms and was 
lavish with her smiles, there were more poor victims about 
her little feet than about any other woman at the shore that 
summer. Men talked about her in the smoking rooms and 
billiard rooms and compared her tovamps of other seasons, 


n 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


and decided she had left them all in the shade. She was 
a perfect production of the modern age, more perfect than 
others because she knew how to do the boldest things with 
that cherubic air that bereft sin of its natural ugliness and 
made it beautiful and delicious, as if degradation had 
suddenly become an exalted thing, like some of the old 
rites in a Pagan Temple, and she a lovely priestess. And 
when each new folly was over there was she with her inno¬ 
cent baby air, and her pure childlike face that looked 
dreamily out from its frame of little girl hair, and seemed 
not to have been soiled at all. And so men who played her 
games lost their sense of sin and fell that much lower 
than those who sin and know it and are afraid to look 
themselves in the face. When a man loses his sense of 
shame, of being among the pigs, he is in a far coun¬ 
try indeed. 

But Opal Verrons sauntering forth to the Hotel piazza 
in company with three of her quondam admirers suddenly 
lost her luxurious air of nestling content. The hotel clerk 
handed her two telegrams as she passed the desk. She tore 
them open carelessly, but her eyes grew wide with horror 
as she read. 

Percy Emerson had been arrested. He had run over a 
woman and a baby and both were in a hospital in a critical 
condition. He would be held without bail until it was 
seen whether they lived. 

She drew in her breath with a frightened gasp and bit 
at her red lip with her little sharp teeth. A pretty child 
with floating curls and dainty apparel ran laughing across 
her way, its hand outstretched to a tiny white dog that 
was dancing after her, and Opal gave a sharp cry and 
tore the telegram into small bits. But when she opened 
the second message her face paled under its delicate rouge 
as she read: “ Mortimer McMarter killed in an accident 
when his car collided with a truck. His body lies at 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


93 


Saybrook Inn. We find your address on his person, with 
a request to let you know if anything happens to him. 
What do you wish done with the body? ” 

Those who watched her face as she read say that it 
took on an ashen color and she looked years older. Her 
real spirit seemed to be looking forth from those wide 
limpid eyes for an instant, the spirit of a coward who had 
been fooling the world; the spirit of a lost soul who had 
grown old in sin; the spirit of a soul who had stepped over 
the bounds and sinned beyond her depth. 

She looked about upon them all, stricken, appalled,— 
not sorry but just afraid,—and not for her friends, but 
for herself! And then she gave a horrid little lost laugh 
and dropping the telegram as if it had burned her, she 
flung out her voice upon them with a blaze in her big 
eyes and a snarl in her lute-voice: 

“ Well, I wasn’t to blame was I ? They all were grown 
men, weren’t they? It was up to them. I’m going to get 
out of here! This is an awful place! ” 

She gave a shudder and turning swiftly fled to the 
elevator, catching it just as the door was being shut, and 
they saw her rising behind the black and gold grating and 
waving a mocking little white hand at them as they 
watched her amazed. Then one of them stooped and 
picked up the telegram. And while they still stood at the 
doorway wondering some one pointed to a brilliant blue 
car that was sliding down the avenue across the beach road. 

“ She has gone! ” they said looking at one another 
strangely. Did she really care then ? 

The dinner at Sabbath Valley parsonage was a good 
one. It was quite different from any dinner Laurie 
Shafton had ever eaten before. It had a taste that he 
hadn’t imagined just plain chicken and mashed potatoes 
and bread and butter and coffee and cherry pie could have. 


94 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Those were things he seldom picked out from a menu, 
and he met them as something new and delicious, prepared 
in this wonderful country way. 

Also the atmosphere was queer and interesting. 

The minister had helped him into the dining-room, a 
cheery room with a bay window looking toward the church 
and a window box of nasturtiums in which the bees hum¬ 
med and buzzed. 

The girl came in and acknowledged the casual intro¬ 
duction of her father with a quite sophisticated nod and 
sat down across from him. And there was a prayer at 
the beginning of the meal! Just as he was about to say 
something graceful to the girl, there was a prayer. It was 
almost embarrassing. He had never seen one before like 
this. At a boarding school once he had experienced a 
thing they called “ grace ” which consisted in standing 
behind their chairs while the entire assembled hungry mul¬ 
titude repeated a poem of a religious nature. He remem¬ 
bered they used to spend their time making up parodies 
on it—one ran something about “ this same old fish upon 
my plated and rhymed with “ hate.” He stared at the 
lovely bowed hair of the girl across the table while it was 
going on, and got ready a remark calculated to draw her 
smiles, but the girl lifted eyes that seemed so far away 
he felt as though she did not see him, and he contented 
himself with replying to his host’s question something 
about the part of the chicken he liked best. It was a 
queer home to him, it seemed so intimate. Even the 
chicken seemed to be a detail of their life together, per¬ 
haps because there was only one chicken, and one breast. 
Where he dwelt there were countless breasts, and every¬ 
body had a whole breast if he wanted it, or a whole chicken 
for the matter of that. Here they had to stop and ask 
what others liked before they chose for themselves. This 
analysis went queerly on in his mind while he sat waiting 





THE CITY OF FIRE 


95 


for his plate and wondering over the little things they 
were talking about. Mrs. Severn said Miss Saxon had 
been crying all through church, and she told her Billy had 
been away all night. She was awfully worried about his 
going with that baseball team 

A fleeting shadow passed over the girl's face: 

“ Billy promised me he would be there to-day,” she 
said thoughtfully, “ something must have happened. I 
don’t think Billy was with the baseball team—” then her 
eyes travelled away out the window to the distant hills, 
she didn’t seem to see Laurence Shafton at all. It was a 
new experience for him. He was fairly good looking and 
knew it. 

Who the deuce was this Billy? And what did she care 
about Miss Saxon crying? Did she care so much for Billy 
already? Would it be worth his while to make her uncare? 

“ Mrs. Carter wasn’t out,” said Mrs. Severn as she 
poured coffee, “ I hope she’s not having more trouble with 
her neuralgia.” 

The minister suddenly looked up from his carving: 

“ Did Mark come back yesterday, Marilyn ? ” 

The girl drew a quick breath and brought back her 
eyes from the hills, but she did not look at the young man: 

“ No, father he didn’t come.” 

Who the deuce was Markf Of course there would 
be several, but there was always one. Billy and Mark! 
It was growing interesting. 

But Billy and Mark were not mentioned again, though 
a deep gravity seemed to have settled into the eyes of the 
family since their names had come up. Laurie decided to 
speak of the weather and the roads: 

“ Glorious weather we’re having,” he chirped out 
condescendingly, “ But you certainly have the limit for 
roads. What’s the matter with the highway? Had a 
Detour right in the best part of the road. Bridge down, 





THE CITY OF FIRE 


it said, road flooded! Made the deuce of a time 
for me—! ” 

“ Bridge?” remarked Marilyn looking up thoughtfully. 

“ Flood?” echoed the minister sharply. 

“ Yes. About two miles back where the highway 
crosses this valley. Put me in some fix. Had a bet on you 
know. Date with a lady. Staked a lot of money on 
winning, too. Hard luck,” Then he looked across at 
Marilyn’s attentive face. Ah! He was getting her at 
last! More on that line. 

“ But it’ll not be all loss,” he added gallantly with a 
gesture of admiration toward her, “ You see I didn’t have 
any idea I was going to meet you” 

But Marilyn’s eyes were regarding him soberly, stead¬ 
ily, analytically, without an answering smile. It was 
as if she did not like what he had said—if indeed she 
had heard it at all—as if she were offended at it. Then 
the eyes took on an impersonal look and wandered thought¬ 
fully to the mountains in the distance. Laurie felt his 
cheeks burn. He felt almost embarrassed again, like 
during the prayer. Didn’t the girl know he was paying 
her a compliment? Or was she such a prude that she 
thought him presuming on so slight an acquaintance? 
Her father was speaking: 

“ I don’t quite understand,” he said thoughtfully. 
“There is no bridge within ten miles, and nothing to flood 
the road but the Creek, which never was known to over¬ 
flow its banks more than a few feet at most. The highway 
is far above the valley. You must have been a bit 
turned around.” 

The young man laughed lightly: 

“ Well, perhaps I had a jag on. I’m not surprised. 
I’d been driving for hours and had to drink to keep my 
nerve till morning. There were some dandy spilling places 
around those mountain curves. One doesn’t care to look 
out and see when one is driving at top speed.” 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


97 


Heavens! What had he said now? The girl’s eyes 
came round to look him over again and went through to 
his soul like a lightning flash and away again, and there 
was actually scorn on her lips. He must take another 
line. He couldn’t understand this haughty country beauty 
in the least. 

“ I certainly did enjoy your music,” he flashed forth 
with a little of his own natural gaiety in his voice that 
made him so universal a favorite. 

The girl turned gravely toward him and surveyed him 
once more as if she were surprised and perhaps had not 
done him justice. She looked like one who would always 
be willing to do one justice. He felt encouraged: 

“If it hadn’t been for this blamed foot of mine I’d 
have hobbled over to the—service. I was sorry not to 
hear the music closer.” 

“ There is another service this evening,” she said 
pleasantly, “ Perhaps father can help you over. It is a 
rather good organ for so small a one.” She was trying to 
be polite to him. It put him on his metal. It made him 
remember how rude he had been to her father the 
night before. 

“ Delightful organ I’m sure,” he returned, “ but it was 
the organist that I noticed. One doesn’t often hear such 
playing even on a good organ.” 

“ Oh, I’ve been well taught,” said the girl without self- 
consciousness. “ But the children are to sing this evening. 
You’ll like to hear the children I’m sure. They are doing 
fairly well now.” 

“ Charmed, I’m sure,” he said with added flattery of 
his eyes which she did not take at all because she was 
passing her mother’s plate for more gravy. How odd not 
to have a servant pass it! 

“ You come from New York? ” the host hazarded. 

“ Yes,” drawled the youth, “ Shafton’s my name, 


7 


98 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Laurence Shafton, son of William J., of Shafton and 
Gates you know,” he added impressively. 

The host was polite but unimpressed. It was almost 
as though he had never heard of William J. Shafton the 
multi-millionaire. Or was it ? Dash the man, he had such a 
way with him of acting as though he knew everything and 
nothing impressed him; as though he was just as good as 
the next one! As though his father was something even 
greater than a millionaire! He didn’t seem to be in the 
least like Laurie’s idea of a clergyman. He couldn’t seem 
to get anywhere with him. 

The talk drifted on at the table, ebbing and flowing 
about the two ladies as the tide touches a rising strand 
and runs away. The girl and her mother answered his 
questions with direct steady gaze, and polite phrases, but 
they did not gush nor have the attitude of taking him 
eagerly into their circle as he was accustomed to being 
taken in wherever he went. Nothing he said seemed to 
reach further than kindly hospitality. When that was 
fulfilled they were done and went back to their 
own interests. 

Marilyn did not seem to consider the young man a guest j. 
of hers in any sense personally. After the dinner she moved 
quietly out to the porch and seated herself in a far chair 
with a leather bound book, perhaps a Bible, or prayer 
book. He wasn’t very familiar with such things. She 
took a little gold pencil from a chain about her neck and 
made notes on a bit of paper from what she read, and she 
joined not at all in the conversation unless she was spoken i 
to, and then her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. It 
was maddening. 

Once when a tough looking little urchin went by with , 
a grin she flew down off the porch to the gate to talk with 
him; she stood there some time in earnest converse. What 






THE CITY OF FIRE 


99 


could a girl like that find to say to a mere kid ? When she 
came back there was a look of trouble in her eyes, and by 
and by her father asked if Harry had seen Billy, and she 
shook her head with a cloud on her brow. It must be 
Billy then. Billy was the one! Well, dash him! If he 
couldn’t go one better than Billy he would see! Anyhow 
Billy didn’t have a sprained ankle, and a place in the 
family! A girl like that was worth a few days’ invalidism. 
His ankle didn’t hurt much since the minister had dressed 
it again. He believed he could get up and walk if he liked, 
but he did not mean to. He meant to stay here a few days 
and conquer this young beauty. It was likely only her w^y 
of vamping a man, anyway, and a mighty tantalizing one 
at that. Well, he would show her! And he would show 
Billy, too, whoever Billy was! A girl like that! Why,—A 
girl like that with a face like that would grace any gather¬ 
ing, any home! He had the fineness of taste to realize that 
after he got done playing around with Opal and women like 
her, this would be a lady any one would be proud to settle 
down to. And why not? If he chose to fall in love with 
a country nobody, why could’nt he ? What was the use of 
being Laurie Shafton, son of the great William J. Shafton, 
if he couldn’t marry whom he would? Shafton would be 
enough to bring any girl up to par in any society in the 
universe. So Laurie Shafton set himself busily to 
be agreeable. 

And presently his opportunity arrived. Mrs. Severn 
had gone in the house to take a nap, and the minister had 
been called away to see a sick man. The girl continued to 
study her little book: 

“ I wish you would come and amuse me,” he said in 
the voice of an interesting invalid. 

The girl looked up and smiled absently: 

“ I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have to go to my 


100 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Sunday-school class in a few minutes, and I was just get¬ 
ting my lesson ready. Would you like me to get you 
something to read ? ” 

“ No,” he answered crossly. He was not used to being 
crossed in any desire by a lady, “ I want you to talk to me. 
Bother the Sunday-school! Give them a vacation to-day 
and let them go fishing. They’ll be delighted, I’m sure. 
You have a wonderful foot. Do you know it? You must 
be a good dancer. Haven’t you a victrola here? We 
might dance if only my foot weren’t out of commission.” 

“ I don’t dance, Mr. Shafton, and it is the Sabbath,” 
she smiled indulgently with her eyes on her book. 

“ Why don’t you dance ? I could teach you easily. 
And what has the Sabbath got to do with it ? ” 

“ But I don’t care to dance. It doesn’t appeal to me in 
the least. And the Sabbath has everything to do with it. 
If I did dance I would not do it to-day.” 

“ But why? ” he asked in genuine wonder. 

“ Because this is the day set apart for enjoying God 
and not enjoying ourselves.” 

He stared. 

“You certainly are the most extraordinary young 
woman I ever met,” he said admiringly, “ Did no one ever 
tell you that you are very beautiful.” 

She gave him the benefit of her beautiful eyes then in 
a cold amused glance: 

“ Among my friends, Mr. Shafton, it is not considered 
good form to say such things to a lady of slight acquaint¬ 
ance.” She rose and gathered up her book and hat that 
lay on the floor beside her chair, and drew herself up till 
she seemed almost regal. 

Laurie Shafton stumbled to his feet. He was 
ashamed. He felt almost as he had felt once when he 






THE CITY OF FIRE 


101 


was caught with a jag on being rude to a friend of 
his mother's: 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said gracefully, “ I hope you 
will believe me, I meant no harm.” 

“ It is no matter,” said the girl graciously, “ only I do 
not like it. Now you must excuse me. I see my class 
are gathering.” 

She put the hat on carelessly, with a push and a pat and 
slipped past him down the steps and across the lawn. Her 
dress brushed against his foot as she went and it seemed 
like the touch of something ethereal. He never had felt 
such an experience before. 

She walked swiftly to a group of boys, ugly, uncomely, 
overgrown kids, the same who had followed her after 
church, and met them with eagerness. He felt a jealous 
chagrin as he watched them follow her into the church, 
an anger that she dared to trample upon him that way, 
a fierce desire to get away and quaff the cup of admira¬ 
tion at the hand of some of his own friends, or to quaff 
some cup, any cup, for he was thirsty, thirsty, thirsty , 
and this was a dry and barren land. If he did stay and 
try to win this haughty country beauty he would have to 
find a secret source of supply somewhere or he never 
would be able to live through it. 

The Sunday-school hour wore away while he was 
planning how to revenge himself, but she did not return. 
She lingered for a long time on the church steps talking 
with those everlasting kids again, and after they were 
gone she went back into the church and began to play low 
sweet music. 

It was growing late. Long red beams slanted down 
the village street across the lawn, lingered and went out. 
A single ruby burned on one of the memorial windows 



102 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


like a lamp, and went purple and then gray. It was 
growing dusk, and that girl played on! Dash it all! Why 
didn’t she quit? It was wonderful music, but he wanted 
to talk to her. If he hobbled slowly could he get across 
that lawn? He decided to try. And then, just as he rose 
and steadied himself by the porch pillar, down the street 
in a whirl of dust and noisy claxon there came a great i 
blue car and drew up sharp in front of the door, while a 
lute-like voice shouted gaily: “ Laurie, Laurie Shafton, 
is that you ? ” 




IX 


After Billy had listened a long time he took a single 
step to relieve his cramped toes, which were numb with the 
tensity of his strained position. Stealthily as he could he 
moved his shoe, but it seemed to grind loudly upon the 
cement floor of the cellar, and he stopped frozen in tensity 
again to listen. After a second he heard a low growl as 
if someone outside the house were speaking. Then all was 
still. After a time he heard the steps again, cautiously, 
walking over his head, and his spine seemed to rise right 
up and lift him, as he stood trembling. He wasn’t a bit 
superstitious, Billy wasn’t. He knew there was no such 
thing as a ghost, and he wasn’t going to be fooled by any 
noises whatsoever, but anybody would admit it was an 
unpleasant position to be in, pinned in a dark unfamiliar 
cellar without a flash light, and steps coming overhead, 
where only a dead man or a doped man was supposed to 
be. He cast one swift glance back at the cobwebby win¬ 
dow through which he had so recently arrived, and longed 
to be back again, out in the open with the bells, the good 
bells sounding a call in his ears. If he were out wouldn’t 
he run? Wouldn’t he even leave his old bicycle to any 
fate and run? But no! He couldn’t! He would have to 
come back inevitably. Whoever was upstairs in that house 
alone and in peril he must save. Suppose—!—His heart 
gave a great dry sob within him and he turned away from 
the dusty exit that looked so little now and so inadequate 
for sudden flight. 

The steps went on overhead shuffling a little louder, as 
they seemed further off. They were climbing the stair 
he believed. They wore rubber heels! Link had worn 
rubber heels! And Shorty’s shoes were covered with old 

103 


104 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


overshoes! Had they come back, perhaps to hide from 
their pursuers? His heart sank. If that were so he must 
get out somehow and go after the police, but that should 
be his last resort. He didn’t want to get any one else in 
this scrape until he knew exactly what sort of a scrape it 
was. It wasn’t square to anybody—not square to the 
doped man, not square to himself, not even square to Pat 
and the other two, and—yes, he must own it,—not square 
to Cart. That was his first consideration, Cart! He must 
find Cart. But first he must find out somehow who that 
man was that had been kidnapped. 

It seemed an age that he waited there in the cellar and 
everything so still. Once he heard a door far up open, 
and little shuffling noises, and by and by he could not stand 
it any longer. Getting down softly on all fours, he crept 
slowly, nioselessly over to the cellar stairs, and began 
climbing, stopping at every step to listen. His efforts were 
much hampered by the milk bottle which kept dragging 
down to one side and threatening to hit against the steps. 
But he felt that milk was essential to his mission. He 
dared not go without it. The tools were in his other 
pocket. They too kept catching in his sleeve as he moved 
cautiously. At last he drew himself to the top step. There 
was a crack of light under the door. Suppose it should be 
locked ? He could saw out a panel, but that would make a 
noise, and he still had the feeling that someone was in that 
house. A cellar was not a nice place in which to be trapped. 
One bottle of milk wouldn’t keep him alive very long. The 
haunted house was a great way from anywhere. Even 
the bells couldn’t call him from there, once anybody chose 
to fasten him in the cellar, and find the loose window and 
fasten it up—! 

Such thoughts poured a torrent of hot fire through 
his brain while his cold fingers gripped the door knob, 
and slowly, fiercely, compellingly, made it turn in its 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


105 


socket till its rusty old spring whined in complaint, and 
then he held his breath to listen again. It seemed an age 
before he dared put any weight upon that unlatched door 
to see if it would move, and then he did it so cautiously 
that he was not sure it was opening till a ray of light from 
a high little window shot into his eyes and blinded him. 
He held the knob like a vise, and it was another age 
before he dared slowly release the spring and relax his 
hand. Then he looked around. He found himself in a 
kind of narrow butler’s pantry with a swinging door 
opposite him into the room at the back, and a narrow pas¬ 
sage leading around the corner next the door. He peeked 
cautiously, blinkingly round the door jamb and saw the 
lower step of what must be back stairs. There were no 
back stairs in Aunt Saxon’s house, but before his mother 
died Billy Gaston had lived in the city where they always 
had back stairs. That door before him likely led to the 
dining-room. He took a careful step, pushed the swing 
door half an inch and satisfied himself that was the kitchen 
at the back. No one there. Another step or two gave 
him the same assurance about the dining-room and no one 
there. He surveyed the distance to the foot of the back 
stairs It seemed long. What he was afraid of was that 
light space at the foot of those stairs. He was almost 
sure there was a hall straight through to the front door, 
and he had a hunch that that front door was open. If 
he passed the steps and anyone was there they would see 
him, and yet he wanted to get up those stairs now, right 
away, before anything more happened. It was too still up 
there to suit him. With trembling fingers he untied his 
shoe strings, and slipped off his shoes, knotting the strings 
together and slinging the shoes around his neck. He was 
taking no chances He gripped the revolver with one hand 
and stole out cautiously. When he reached the end of the 
dining-room wall he applied an eye toward the opening of 


106 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


light, and behold it was as he had suspected, a hall leading 
straight through to the front door, and Shorty, with his 
full length profile cut clear against the morning, standing 
on the upper step keeping lookout! He dodged back and 
caught his breath, then made a noiseless dart toward those 
stairs. If Shorty heard, or if he turned and saw anything 
he must have thought it was the reported ghost walking, 
so silently and like a breath passed Billy up the stair. But 
when he was come to the top, he held his breath again, 
for now he could distinctly hear steps walking about in the 
room close at hand, and peering up he saw the door was 
open part way. He paused again to reconnoitre and his 
heart set up an intolerable pounding in his breast. 

He could dimly make out the back of a chair, and 
further against a patch of light where the back window 
must be he could see the foot board of a bed, the head of 
which must be against the opposite wall The door was 
open about a third of the way. There was a key in the 
lock. Did that mean that they locked the man in? It 
would be a great thing to get hold of that key! 

A moan in the direction of the bed startled him, and 
prodded his weary mind. He gave a quick silent spring 
across in front of the door and flattened himself against the 
wall. He knew he had made a slight noise in his going, 
and he felt the stillness in the room behind the half open 
door. Link had heard him. It was a long time before he 
dared stir again. 

Link seemed to lay down something on the floor that 
sounded like a dish and start toward the door. Billy felt the 
blood fly to the top of his head. If Link came out he was 
caught. Where could he fly? Not down stairs. Shorty was 
there, with a gun of course. Would it do to snap that door 
shut and lock Link in with the prisoner ? No telling what he 
might do, and Shorty would come if there was an outcry. 
He waited in an agony of suspense, but Link did not come 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


107 


out yet. Instead he tiptoed back to the bed again, and 
seemed to be arranging some things out of a basket on a 
little stand by the bed. Billy applied an eye to the crack 
of the door and got a brief glimpse. Then cautiously he 
put out his stubby fingers and grasped that key, firmly, 
gently, turning, slipping, little by little, till he had it safe 
in his possession. Several times he thought Link turned 
and looked toward the door. Once he almost dropped 
the key as he was about to set it free from the lock, but 
his anxious fingers were true to their trust, and the key 
was at last drawn back and safely slid into Billy’s pocket. 
Then he looked around for a place to hide. There were 
rooms on the front, and a door was open. He could slide 
in there and hide It was dark, and there might be a closet. 
He cast one eye through the door crack and beheld in the 
dim light Link bending over the inert figure on the bed 
with a cup and spoon in his hand. Perhaps they were 
giving him more dope! If he only could stop it somehow! 
The man was doped enough, sleeping all that time! But 
now was the time for him and the key to make an exit. 

Slowly, cautiously he backed away from the door, down 
the hall and into the next open door, groping his silent 
way toward a little half moon in the shutter. He made a 
quick calculation, glanced about, did some sleight of hand 
with the door till it swung noiselessly shut, and then slip¬ 
ping back to the window he examined the catches. There 
was a pane of glass gone, but it was not in the right place. 
If he only could manage to slide the sash down. He 
turned the catch and applied a pressure to the upper sash, 
but like most upper sashes it would not budge. If he 
strained harder he might be able to move it but that would 
make a noise and spoil his purpose. He looked wildly 
round the room, with a feeling that something must help 
him, and suddenly he discovered that the upper sash of the 
other window was pulled all the way down, and a sweet 


108 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


breath of wild grape blossoms was being wafted to his 
heated forehead. With a quick move he placed himself 
under this window, which he realized must be almost over 
Shorty’s head. It was but the work of an instant to grasp 
Pat’s gun and stick its nose well through the little half 
moon of an opening in the shutter, pointed straight over 
Shorty’s head into the woods, and pull the trigger. 

The report went rolling, reverberating down the valley 
from hill to hill like a whole barrage it seemed to Billy; 
and perhaps to Shorty waiting for his pard below, but at 
any rate before the echoes had ceased to roll Shorty was 
no longer on the door step. He had vanished and was far 
away, breaking through the underbrush, stumbling, and 
cutting himself, getting up to stumble again, he hurled 
himself away from that haunted spot. Ghosts were 
nothing to Shorty. He could match himself against a 
spirit any day, but ghosts that could shoot were another 
matter, and he made good his going without hesitation 
or needless waiting for his partner in crime. He was never 
quite sure where that shot came from, whether from high 
heaven or down beneath the earth 

As for Link, if he was giving more dope, he did not 
finish. He dropped a cup in his hurry and darted like a 
winged thing to the head of the stairs, where he took the 
flight at a slide and disappeared into the woods without 
waiting for locks or keys or any such things. 

“He seems a little nervous,” grinned Billy, who had 
climbed to the window seat with one eye applied to the 
half moon, watching his victims take their hurried leave. 
And lest they should dare to watch and return before he 
was ready for them he sent another shot into the blue 
sky, ricochetting along the hills; and still another, grimly, 
after an interval. 

Then swiftly turning he stole down the front stairs 
and took the key from the lock, shut the door, pushing a 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


109 


big bolt on the inside. With a hasty examination of the 
lower floor that satisfied him that he was safely ensconced 
in his stronghold and would not be open to immediate 
interruption he hurried upstairs again. 

His first act was to open a window and throw back the 
shutters. The morning sunlight leaped in like a friend, 
and a bird in a tree carolled out gladly. Something in 
Billy’s heart burst into a tear. A tear! Bah! He brushed 
it away with his grimy hand and went over to the bed, 
rolling the inert figure toward him till the face was in 
plain view. A sudden fit of trembling took possession of 
him and he dropped nervelessly beside the bed with his 
hands outstretched and uttered a sob ending in a 
single syllable, 

" Cart! ” 

For there on the bed still as the dead lay Mark Carter, 
his beloved idol, and he had helped to put him there! 

Thirty pieces of silver! And his dearest friend dead, 
perhaps! A Judas! All his life he would be a Judas. He 
knew now why Judas hanged himself. If Cart was dead he 
would have to hang himself! Here in this house of death 
he must hang himself, like Judas, poor fool. And he 
would fling that blood money back. Only, Cart must not 
he dead! It would be hell forever for Billy if Cart was 
dead. He could not stand if! 

Billy sprang to his feet with tears raining down his 
cheeks, but his tired dirty face looked beautiful in its 
anxiety. He tore open Mark Carter’s coat and vest, 
wrenched away collar, necktie and shirt, and laid 
his face against the breast. It was warm! He struggled 
closer and put his ear to the heart. It was beating! 

He shook him gently and called, 

“Cart! Cart! Oh, Boy!” with sobs choking in his 
throat. And all the while the little bird was singing in 
a tree enough to split his feathered throat, and the sweet 


110 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


air full of wild grape was rushing into the long closed 
room and driving out the musty air. 

Billy laid Mark down gently on the dusty pillow and 
opened another window. He stumbled over the cup and 
spoon, and a bottle fell from the table and broke sending 
out a pungent odor. But Billy crept close to his friend 
once more and began rubbing his hands and forehead and 
crooning to him as he had once done to his dog when he 
suffered from a broken leg. Nobody would have known 
Billy just then, as he stood crooning over Mark. 

Water! He looked around. A broken pitcher stood 
on the table half filled. He tasted it dubiously. It was 
water, luke warm, but water! He soused a towel he found 
on the washstand into it and slopped it over Mark’s face. 
He went through all the manoeuvres they use on the foot¬ 
ball field when a man is knocked out, and then he be¬ 
thought him of the milk. Milk was an antidote for 
poisons. If he could get some down him! 

Carefully he rinsed out a glass he found on the bureau 
and poured some milk in it, crept on the bed and lifted 
Mark’s head in his arms, put the glass to his lips, and 
begged and pled, and finally succeeded in prying the lips 
and getting a few drops down. Such joy as thrilled him 
when Mark finally swallowed. But it was a long time, 
and Billy began to think he must go for the doctor, leave 
his friend here at the mercy of who would come and go 
after all. He had hoped he might keep his shame, and 
Mark’s capture from everybody, but what was that verse 
the teacher had taught them once awhile ago? “ Be sure 
your sin will find you out.” That was true. He couldn’t 
let Mark die. He must go for the doctor. Doc would 
come, and he would keep his mouth shut, but Doc would 
know, and Billy liked Doc. Well, he would have to get 
him! Mark would hate it so, too, but Billy would have to! 

It was just then that Mark drew a long deep breath of 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


111 


the sweet air, sighed and drew another. Billy pressed the 
glass to his lips and Mark opened his eyes, saw the boy, 
smiled, and said in a weak voice: 

“Hullo, Billy, old boy, got knocked out, didn’t I?” 
Then he closed his eyes and seemed to go away again. 
But Billy, with wildly beating heart poured some more 
milk and came closer: 

“ Drink this, Cart. It’s good. Drink it. We gotta 
get them dirty bums, Cart! Hurry up an’ drink it! ” 

Billy understood his friend. Mark opened his eyes 
and roused a little. Presently he drank some more, nearly 
a whole glass full and Billy took heart of hope. 

“ Do ya think ya could get up now, Cart, ef I he’ped 
ya? ” he asked anxiously, “We gotta get after those 
guys ur they’ll make a getaway.” 

“ Sure! ” said Mark rousing again. “ Go to it, Kid. 
I’m with you,” and he tried to sit up. But his head reeled 
and he fell back. Billy’s heart sank. He must get him 
out of this house before the two keepers returned, perhaps 
with Pat or some other partner in their crime. Patiently 
he began again, and gradually by degrees he propped 
Mark up, fed him more milk, and urged him to rise; fairly 
lifted him with his loving strength, across the room, and 
finally, inch by inch down the stairs and out the back door. 

Billy felt a great thrill when he heard that door shut 
behind him and knew his friend was out in the open again 
under God’s sky. Nothing ever quite discouraged Billy 
when he was out of doors. But it was a work of time 
to get Mark across the clearing and down in the under¬ 
growth out of sight of the house, where the old bicycle 
lay. Once there Billy felt like holding a Thanksgiving 
service. But Mark was very white and lay back on the 
grass looking wholly unlike himself. 

"“Say, Cart,” said Billy after a brief silence of 


112 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


thought, “ I gotta get you on my machine. We gotta get 
down to Unity an’ phone. ,, 

“ All right, old man, just as you say,” murmured 
Mark too dizzy to care. 

So Billy with infinite tenderness, and much straining 
of his young muscles got Mark up and managed to put him 
astride the wheel; but it was tough going and slow, over 
rough places, among undergrowth, and sometimes Billy 
had to stop for breath as he walked and pushed and held 
his friend. 

But Mark was coming to his own again, and by the 
time they reached a road he was able to keep his balance, 
and know what he was doing. It was high noon before 
they reached Unity and betook themselves to the drug 
store. While Mark asked for medicine Billy hied him to 
a telephone booth. His heart was beating wildly. He 
feared him much that Mark’s car was gone. 

But the chief’s voice answered him after a little wait¬ 
ing, and he explained: 

“ Say, I’m the kid that phoned you early this morning. 
Didya get that car aw’right?” Billy held his breath, his 
jaded eyes dropped shut with anxiety and weariness. But 
the chief’s voice answered promptly, “ yes, we got yer car 
all right, but didn’t get the men. They beat it when they 
heard us coming. What sort of men were they, do 
you know ? ” 

“ Aw, that’s aw’right, Chief, I’ll tell ya when I gi’down 
there. Can’t tell ya over the phone. Say, I’m Billy, Billy 
Gaston. You know me. Over to Sab’th Valley. Yes. 
You seen me play on the team. Sure. Well, say Chief, 
I’m here in Unity with the guy that owns the car. Mark 
Carter. You know him. Sure! Mark! Well, he’s all in, 
an’ he wants his car to get home. He’s been up all night 
and he ain’t fit to walk. He wants me to come over and 
bring his car back to Unity fer him. I got my bike here, 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


113 


See ? Now, I ain’t got a license of course, but I c’d bring 
his along. That be aw’right Chief, just over to Unity? 
Aw’right, Chief? Thank ya, Chief. Yas, I’m cornin’ 
right away. S’long! ” 

Billy saw Mark comfortably resting on a couch in the 
back room of the drug store, where an old pal of his was 
clerk, and then stopping only for an invigorating gulp or 
two of a chocolate ice cream soda, he climbed on his old 
wheel and pedalled on his happy way to Economy. The 
winds touched him pleasantly as he passed, the sunshine 
had a queer reddish look to his feverish eyes, and the 
birds seemed to be singing in the top of his head, but he 
was happy. He might go to sleep on the way and roll off 
his wheel, but he should worry! Mark was safe. He 
had almost sold him for thirty pieces of silver, but God 
had somehow been good to him and Mark was alive. Now 
he would serve him all the rest of his life,—Mark or 
God,—it seemed all one to him now somehow, so long 
had he idealized his friend, so mixed were his ideas 
of theology. 

But Billy did not go to sleep nor fall off his wheel, and 
in due time he arrived in Economy and satisfied the Chief’s 
curiosity with vague answers, a vivid description of Link 
and Shorty, and the suggestion that they might be found 
somewhere near the Haunted House on Stark’s mountain. 
He had heard them talking about going there, he said. 
He got away without a mention of the real happening at 
Pleasant View or a hint that he had had anything to do 
with the stealing of the car. Billy somehow was gifted 
that way. He could shut his mouth always just in time, 
and grin and give a turn to the subject that entirely 
changed the current of thought, so he kept his own coun¬ 
sel. Not for his own protection would he have kept back 
any necessary information, but for Mark’s sake. Yes— 
for Mark’s sake—! Mark would not want it to be known. 

8 


114 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


It was in the early evening, and the sky was still 
touched by the after glow of sunset, beneath the evening 
star, as Mark and Billy in the reclaimed car, finally started 
from Unity for home. 

In both their hearts was the thought of the bells that 
would be ringing now in Sabbath Valley for the evening 
service, and of the one who would be playing them, and 
each was trying to frame some excuse that would explain 
his absence to her without really explaining anything. 

And about this time the minister came forth from the 
parsonage, much vexed in spirit by the appearance of the 
outlandish lady in her outlandish car. She seemed to be 
insisting on remaining at the parsonage as if it were a 
common hostelry, and he and his wife had much per¬ 
plexity to know just what to do. And now as he issued 
quietly forth from a side door he could hear her lute-like 
voice laughing from his front porch, and looking back 
furtively he saw to his horror that the lady, as well as the 
gentleman, was smoking a cigarette! 

He paused and tried to think just what would be the 
best way to meet this situation, and while he hesitated his 
senior elder, a man of narrow vision, hard judgments, yet 
staunch sincerity, approached him. The minister had 
grown to expect something unpleasant whenever this man 
sought him out, and to-night he shrank from the ordeal; 
but anything was better than to have him see the visitor 
upon his front steps, so Severn turned and hurried toward 
him cordially: 

“ Good evening, Harricutt. It’s been a good day, 
hasn’t it? ” he said grasping the wiry old hand: 

“ Not so pleasant as you’d think, Mr. Severn,” re¬ 
sponded the hard old voice harshly, “I’ve come on very 
unpleasant business. Very unpleasant indeed; but the 
standard of the church must be kept up, and we must act 
at once in this matter! It is most serious, most serious! I’ve 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


115 


just called a meeting of the session to be held after church, 
and I’ve sent out for this Mark Carter to be present. 
He mu9t answer for himself the things that are being said 
about him, or his name must be stricken from our church 
roll. Do you know what they are saying about him, 
Brother Severn? Do you know what he’s done?” 

But the arrow had entered the soul of the minister and 
his voice was too unsteady to respond, so the senior 
elder proceeded: 

“ He has been keeping company with a young woman 
of dissolute character, and he has been to a place of 
public amusement with her and been seen drinking 
with her. He affects dance halls, and is known to 
live a worldly life. It is time he was cast out from our 
midst and become anathema. And now, it is quite pos¬ 
sible he may be tried for murder! Have you heard what 
happened last night, Mr. Severn? Did you know that 
Mark Carter, a member of our church, tried to kill a man 
down at the Blue Duck Tavern, and for jealousy about a 
girl of loose character? And now, Brother Severn, what 
are we going to do about it ? ” 

Said the minister, answering quietly, calmly: 

“ Brother Harricutt, we are not going to do anything 
about it just now. We are going into the church to wor¬ 
ship God. We will wait at least until Mark Carter comes 
back and see what he has to say for himself.” 

And about that minute, Mark, now thoroughly re¬ 
stored and driving steadily along the road, turned to Billy 
and said quietly with a twinkle in his eye: 

“ Kid, what made you put up that Detour ? ” 


X 


The service that evening had been one of peculiar 
tenderness. The minister prayed so earnestly for the 
graces of forgiveness, loving kindness and tender mercy, 
that several in the congregation began to wonder who 
had been hard on his neighbor now. It was almost un¬ 
canny sometimes how that minister spotted out the faults 
and petty differences in his flock. Many examined their 
own hearts fearfully during the prayer, but at its close 
the face of the senior Elder was stern and severe as ever 
as he lifted his hymn book and began to turn the leaves 
to the place. 

Then the organ mellowed forth joyously: 

“Give to the winds thy fears, 

Trust and be undismayed, 

God hears thy prayers and counts thy tears 
God shall lift up thy head.” 

Elder Harricutt would much rather it had been “ God 
the All Terrible.” His lips were pursed for battle. He 
knew the minister was going to be soft hearted again, and 
it would fall to his lot to uphold the spotless righteousness 
of the church. That had been his attitude ever since he 
became a Christian. He had always been trying to find a 
flaw in Mr. Severn’s theology, but much to his astonish¬ 
ment and perhaps disappointment, he had never yet been 
able to find a point on which they disagreed theologically, 
when it came right down to old fashioned religion, but 
he was always expecting that the next sermon would be the 
one wherein the minister had broken loose from the old 
dyed-in-the-wool creeds and joined himself to the new 
and advanced thinkers, than whom, in his opinion, there 
were no lower on the face of God’s earth. And yet in 
116 


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117 


spite of it all he loved the minister, and was his strong 
admirer and loyal adherent, self-appointed mentor 
though he felt himself to be. 

Over on the other side of the church Elder Dun- 
cannon, tall, gaunt, hairy, with kind gray eyes and a 
large mouth, reminding slightly of Abraham Lincoln, 
sang earnestly, through steel bowed spectacles adjusted 
far out on the end of his nose. Behind him Lemuel 
Tipton, also an elder, sandy, with cherry lips, apple 
cheeks and a fringe of grizzled red hair under his chin, sang 
with his head thrown back, looking like a big robin. 
The minister knew he could depend on those two. He 
scanned his audience. The elders were all present. 
Gibson. He had a narrow forehead, near-sighted eyes, 
and an inclination to take the opposite side from the 
minister. His lips were thin, and he pursed them often, 
and believed in efficiency and discipline. He would un¬ 
doubtedly go with Harricutt. Jones, the short fat one 
who owned the plush mills and hated boys. He had taken 
sides against Mark about the memorial window. No 
hope from him! Fowler, small, thin, gray, with a re¬ 
treating chin, had once lived next to Mrs Carter and had 
a difference about some hens that strayed away to lay. 
Harricutt likely had him all primed. Jones, Gibson, 
Harricutt—three against three. Joyce’s vote would 
decide it. Joyce was a new man, owner of the canneries. 
He was a great stickler for proprieties, yet he seemed to 
feel that a minister’s word was law—Well—! God was 
still above—! 

The benediction held a tenderness that fairly com¬ 
pelled the waiting congregation to attend with their hearts. 

******** 

“Let’s go over there and hear that girl play,” sug¬ 
gested Laurie suddenly, “ Church is out and we’ll make 


118 


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her play the bells. They’re simply great. She’s 
some player! ” 

Opal leaned back in her chair and regarded him 
through the fringes of her eyelashes, laughing a silvery 
peal that shivered into the reverence of the benediction 
like a shower of icicles going down the back. Marilyn 
heard and blended the Amen into the full organ to break 
the shock as the startled congregation moved restlessly, 
with half unclosed eyes. Elder Harricutt heard, shut 
his eyes tighter, and pressed severe lips together with 
resistance. This doubtless was that woman they called 
Cherry. That irreverent Mark Carter must be close at 
hand. And on the rose-vined porch Laurence Shafton 
felt the sting of the laugh and drew himself together: 

“Oh, Laurie, Laurie!” she mocked, “You might as 
well be dead at Saybrook Inn or imprisoned for killing a 
family as fall in love with that girl. She isn’t at all your 
kind. How would you look singing psalms? But come 
on, I’m game! I can see how she’ll hate me. Can 
you walk ? ” 

They sauntered slowly over to the church in the 
fragrant darkness, he leaning on a cane he had found by 
the door. The kindly, curious people coming out eyed 
them interestedly, looking toward the two cars in front of 
the parsonage, and wondered. It was a neighborhood 
where everybody took a kindly interest in everybody else, 
and the minister belonged to them all. Nothing went on 
at his house that they did not just love and dote on. 

“ Seems to me that girl has an awful low-necked dress 
for Sunday night,” said Mrs. Little to Mrs. Jones as 
they walked slowly down the street, “ Did you catch the 
flash of those diamonds on her neck and fingers? ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Jones contemptuously, “ paint on 
her face too, thick as pie crust. I saw her come. She 
drove her own car and her dresses were up to her knees, 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


119 


and such stockings! With stripes like lace in them! And 
little slippers with heels like knitting needles! I declare, I 
don’t know what this generation is coming to! I’m glad 
my Nancy never wanted to go away to boarding 
school. They say it’s terrible, the boldness of young 
girls nowadays.” 

“ Well, if you’d ask me, I’d say she wasn’t so very 
young! ” declared Mrs. Little. “ The light from the 
church door was full in her face when I was coming down 
the steps, and she looked as if she’d cut her eye teeth 
sometime past.” 

“She had short hair,” said Mrs. Jones, “ for she pulled 
off her hat and ran her fingers through it just like a boy. 
I was cutting bread at the pantry window when she drove 
up and I couldn’t help seeing her.” 

“ Oh, when my sister was up in New York this spring 
she said she saw several old gray-haired women with bob¬ 
bed hair. She said it was something terrible to see how 
the world had run to foolishness.” 

“ Well, I don’no as it’s wicked to bob your hair,” 
said Mrs. Jones. “ I suppose it does save some time 
taking care of it if you have curly hair, and it looks good 
on you, but mercy! It attracts so much attention. Well, 
I’m glad we don’t live in New York! I declare, every 
time I come to church and hear Mr. Severn preach I just 
want to thank God that my lines are cast in Sabbath 
Valley. But speaking of going to boarding school, it 
didn’t hurt Marilyn Severn to go. She’s just as sweet 
and unspoiled as when she went away.” 

“ Oh, her! You couldn’t spoil her. She’s all spirit. 
She’s got both her father’s and mother’s souls mixed up 
in her and you couldn’t get a better combination. I 
declare I often wonder the devil lets two such good people 
live. I suppose he doesn’t mind as long’s he can confine 
’em to a little place among the hills. But my soul! If 


no 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


those two visitors didn’t need a sermon to-night I never 
saw folks that did. Do you know, when that man came 
last night in a broken down car he swore so he woke us all 
up, all around the neighborhood. If it had been anybody 
else in town but Mr. Severn he’d been driven out or tarred 
and feathered. Well, good-night. I guess you aren’t 
afraid to walk the rest of the way alone.” 

Back in the church Marilyn had lingered at the organ, 
partly because she dreaded going back to the house while 
the two strangers were there, partly because it was only at 
the organ that she could seem to let her soul give voice to 
the cry of its longing. All day she had prayed while going 
quietly about her Sabbath duties. All day she steadily held 
herself to the tasks that were usually her joy and delight, 
though sometimes it seemed that she could not go on with 
them. Billy and Mark! Where were they? What had their 
absence to do with one another? Somehow it comforted 
her a little to think of them both away, and then again 
it disquieted her. Perhaps, oh, perhaps Mark had really 
changed as people said he had. Perhaps he had taken 
Billy to a baseball game somewhere. In New York or 
many other places that would not seem an unusual thing, 
she knew, not so much out of the way. Even church 
members were lenient about these things in the great 
world. It would not be strange if Mark had grown lax. 
But here in Sabbath Valley public opinion on the keeping 
of the Sabbath day was so strong that it meant a great 
deal. It amounted to public disgrace to disregard the 
ordinary rules of Sabbath; for in Sabbath Valley working 
and playing were alike laid aside for the entire twenty- 
four hours, the housewives prepared their dinner the day 
before, an unusually good one always, with some delec¬ 
table dessert that would keep on ice, and everything as in 
the olden time was prepared in the home for a real keep¬ 
ing of a day of rest and enjoyment of the Lord. Even 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


121 


the children had special pasttimes that belonged to that 
day only, and Marilyn Severn still cherished a box of 
wonderful stone blocks that had been her most precious 
possessions as a child, and had been used for Sabbath 
amusement. With these blocks she built temples, laid 
out cities, went through mimic battles of the Bible until 
every story lived as real as if she had been there. There 
were three tiny blocks, one a quarter of a cube which she 
always called Saul, and two half the size that were David 
and Jonathan. So vivid and so happy were those Sunday 
afternoons with mother and father and the blocks. Sab¬ 
bath devoted to the pursuance of heavenly things had 
meant real joy to Marilyn. The calm and quiet of it were 
delight. It had been the hardest thing about her years in 
the world that there seemed to be so little Sabbath there. 
Only by going to her own room and fencing herself away 
from her friends, could she get any semblance of what 
had been so dear to her, that feeling of leisure to talk and 
think about Christ, her dearest friend. I grant she was an 
unusual girl. There is now and then an unusual girl. We 
do not always hear about them. They are not always beau¬ 
tiful nor gifted. It chanced that Marilyn was all three. 

So she sat and played at her dear organ, played sweet 
and tender hymns. Played gentle, pleading, throbbing 
themes that almost spoke their words out, as she saw Elder 
Harricutt leading his file of elders into the session room 
which was just behind the organ. She knew that in all 
probability there was to be a time of trial for her father, 
and that some poor soul would be mauled over and ground 
up in the mill of criticism, or else some of her father’s 
dearest plans were to be held up for an unsympathetic dis¬ 
cussion. She thanked God for the strong homely face of 
Elder Duncannon as he stalked behind the rest with a look 
of uplift on his worn countenance, and she played 
on softly through another hymn, until suddenly somehow 


122 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


she became aware that the two strangers on the parsonage 
porch had left their rockers and were coming slowly across 
the lawn. The woman’s hard silvery laugh rang out and 
jabbed into the tender hymn she was playing, and she 
stopped short in the middle of a phrase, as if the poor 
thing had been killed instantly. The organ seemed to hold 
its breath, and the sudden silence almost made the little 
church tremble. 

She sat tense, listening, her fingers spread toward the 
stops to push them in and close the organ and be gone 
before they arrived if they contemplated coming in, for 
she had no mind to talk to them just now. Then coldly, 
harshly out from the cessation of great sound came Elder 
Harricutt’s voice: 

But Brother Severn, supposing that it turns out that 
Mark Carter is a murderer! You surely would not ap¬ 
prove of keeping his name on the church roll then, would 
you? It seems to me that in order to keep the garments 
of the bride of Christ clean from soil we should anticipate 
such a happening and show the world that we recognize 
the character of this young man, and that we do not coun¬ 
tenance such doings as she has been guilty of. Now, last 
night, it is positively stated that he and this person they 
call Cherry Fenning were at the Blue Duck—! ” 

Crash! The bells! 

Lynn had heard so much through the open session- 
room door, had turned a quick frightened glance and 
caught the glimpse of two people coming slowly in at 
the open door of the church peering at her, had made one 
quick motion which released the bells, and dashed into the 
first notes that came to her mind, the old hymn, “ Rock 
of Ages, Cleft for Me, Let Me Hide Myself in Thee!” 
But instead of playing it tenderly, grandly, as she usually 
did, with all the sweetness of the years in which saints and 
sinners have sung it and found refuge and comfort in 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


123 


its noble lines, she plunged into it with a mad rush as if 
a soul in mortal peril were rushing to the Refuge before 
the gates should be forever closed, or before the enemy 
should snatch it from the haven. The first note boomed 
forth so sharply, so suddenly, that Elder Harricutt jumped 
visibly from his chair, and his gossipy little details were 
drowned in the great tone that struck. Behind his hand, 
the troubled minister smiled in spite of his worries, to 
think of the brave young soul behind those bells defending 
her own. 

Down the aisle just under the tower Opal Verrons 
paused for an instant startled, thinking of prison walls, 
and of the dead man lying at Saybrook Inn that night. 
Suddenly the words of the telegram flashed across her: 
“ What disposition do you want made of the body ? ” The 
body! The body! Oh! Her eyes grew wide with horror. 
She ought to answer that telegram and give them his 
home address. But why should she ? What had she to do 
with him now? Dead. He was Dead. He had passed 
to another world. She shuddered. She looked around 
and shrank back toward Shafton, but Laurie was wrapt in 
the vision of Saint Cecilia seated at the organ under the 
single electric light that the janitor had left burning over 
her head. She resembled a saint with a halo more than 
ever, and his easily excited sense? were off chasing this 
new flower of fancy. 

Behind the organ pipes the session sat with the repu¬ 
tation of a man in their ruthless fingers, tossing it back 
and forth, and deliberating upon their own damning 
phrases, while the minister sat with stern white face, and 
sought to hold them from taking an action that might 
brand a human soul forever. Marilyn needed no more 
than those harsh words to know that her friend of the 
years was being weighed in the balance. 

Many a Sabbath afternoon in his childhood had Mark 


124 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Carter spent with her playing the stone block play of 
David and Jonathan, and then eaten bread and milk and 
apple sauce and sponge cake with her and heard the evening 
prayers and songs and said good-night with a sweet 
look of the Heavenly Father’s child on his handsome little 
face. Many a time as an older boy had he sung hymns 
with her and listened to her read the Bible, and talked it 
over with her afterward. He had not been like that when 
she went away. Could he so have changed ? And Cherry 
Fenning! The little girl who had been but ten years old 
when she went away to college, Cherry a precocious little 
daughter of a shoemaker in Economy, who came over to 
take music lessons from her. Cherry at the Blue Duck! 
And with Mark! Could it be true? It could not be true! 
Not in the sense that Mr. Harricutt was trying to make 
out. Mark might have been there, but never to do wrong. 
The Blue Duck was a dance hall where liquor was sold on 
the quiet, and where unspeakable things happened every 
little while. Oh, it was outrageous! Her fingers made 
the bells crash out her horror and disgust, and her appeal 
to a higher power to right this dreadful wrong. And then 
a hopeless sick feeling came over her, a whirling dizzy 
sensation as if she were going to faint, although she never 
fainted. She longed to drop down upon the keys and wail 
her heart out, but she might not. Those awful words or 
more like them were going on behind the organ there, and 
the door was open—or even if the door was not open they 
could be heard, for the room behind the organ was only 
screened by a heavy curtain! Those two strangers must 
not hear! At all costs they must not hear a thing like this! 
They did not know Mark Carter of course, but at any 
rate they must not hear! It was like having him exposed 
in the public square for insult. So she played on, growing 
steadier, and more controlled. If only she could know the 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


125 


rest! Or if only she might steal away then, and lie down 
and bear it alone for a little! So this was what had given 
her father such a white drawn look during his sermon! 
She had seen that hard old man go across the lawn to meet 
him, and this was what he was bringing her father 
to bear! 

But the music itself and the words of the grand old 
hymns she was playing gradually crept into her soul and 
helped her, so that when the lame stranger made at last his 
slow progress up to the choir loft and stood beside her she 
was able to be coolly polite and explain briefly to him how 
the organ controlled the action of the bells. 

He listened to her, standing in open admiration, his 
handsome careless face with its unmistakable look of self 
indulgence was lighted up with genuine admiration for the 
beautiful girl who could play so well, and could talk 
equally well about her instrument, quite as if it were 
nothing at all out of the ordinary run of things that she 
were doing. 

Opal, sitting in the front pew, where she had dropped 
to wait till her escort should be satisfied, watched him at 
first discontentedly, turning her eyes to the girl, half 
wondering, half sneering, till all at once she percieved that 
the girl was not hearing the hot words of admiration 
poured upon her, was not impressed in the least by the man, 
did not even seem to know who he was—or care. How 
strange. What a very strange girl! And really a beauti¬ 
ful girl, too, she saw, now that her natural jealousy was 
for the moment averted. How extremely amusing. 
Laurie Shafton interested in a girl who didn’t care a row 
of pins about him. What a shouting joke! She must 
take it back to his friends at the shore, who would kid him 
unmercifully about it. The thing had never been known 
in his life before. Perhaps, too, she would amuse herself 


126 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


a little, just as a pasttime, by opening the eyes of this 
village maiden to the opportunity she was missing? Why 
not? Just on the verge of his departure perhaps. 

And now, with tender touch, the music grew softer 
and dropped into the sorrowful melody: 

“The mistakes of my life have been many, 

The sins of my heart have been more, 

But I come as He has bidden, 

And enter the open door. 

I know I am weak and sinful, 

It comes to me more and more 
But since the dear Saviour has bid me come in 
I’ll enter the open door.” 

It was one of the songs they used to sing together, 
Mark and she, on Sunday afternoons just as the sun was 
dropping behind the western mountain, and Marilyn 
played it till the bells seemed to echo out a heart’s re¬ 
pentance, and a great forgiveness to one far, far away. 

At its first note the song was recognized by Mark 
Carter as he drove along through the night and it thrilled 
him to his sad sick soul. It was as if she had spoken to 
him, had swept his heart strings with her white fingers, 
had given him her sweet wistful smile, and was calling to 
him through the dark. As they came in sight of the 
church Billy pulled his cap a little lower and tried to keep 
the choke out of his throat. Somehow the long hours 
without sleep or food, the toil, the anxiety, the reaction, 
had suddenly culminated in a great desire to cry. Yes, 
cry just like a baby! Why, even when he was a baby he 
didn’t cry, and now here was this sickening gag in his 
throat, this smarting in his eyelids, this sinking feeling. 
He cast an eye at Cart. Why, Cart looked that way too. 
Cart was feeling it also. Then he wasn’t ashamed. He 
gulped and smudged his dirty hand across his smarting 
eyes, and got a long streak of wet on the back of his hand 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


127 


which he hastily dried on the side of his sweater, and so 
they sat, two still dark figures travelling along quietly 
through the night, for Carter had shut off the engine and 
let the natural incline of the road carry them down almost 
in front of the church. 

When they reached the church they saw a figure 
standing with a lifted hand. The janitor, ordered by 
Harricutt to keep a watch. 

The car stoopped at once 

“ Mark, they’re wantin’ ye in there,” he said with a 
flirt of his thumb over his shoulder and a furtive glance 
behind, “ Keep yer eyes peeled, fer old Cutter-up is bossin’ 
the job, an’ you know him! ” 

Billy sat up and took notice. 

Mark got out with a grave old look upon his face, and 
started up the walk. Billy made a move to follow, hesi¬ 
tated, drew back, held himself in readiness and watched, 
all his boy instincts and prejudices keen on the trail again. 

And so to the old sad song of his mistakes and sins 
Mark entered the door of the sessions room where once he 
and Marilyn had gone one happy summer morning to 
meet the session and confess their faith in Christ. 

As he had passed the window by the organ loft he gave 
one look up where Lynn’s face was framed in the ivy of 
the window under the light. He drank in the sight 
hungrily. But the next instant he caught the vision of 
the young stranger standing with admiring eyes, saw 
Marilyn turn and look up and answer him, but could not 
see how far away and sad her eyes. 

And with this shadow upon his heart he passed in to 
that waiting group of hard critical men, with the white 
faced minister in their midst, and stood to meet 
their challenge. 



XI 


The janitor had gone in to put the church in order for 
the night and hover about to find out what was going on 
in the session room. He never told but he liked to know. 
The moon had gone under a cloud. Billy slipped out of 
the car, and slid up the side path like a wraith, his tired 
legs seeming to gather new vigor with the need. He gave 
a glance of content up to the window. He was glad the 
bells were ringing, and that she was there. He wished 
she knew what peril their friend had been in last night, 
and how he was rescued and safe. 

And then he sighted the stranger! 

Who was that guyl Some sissy, that was sure! 
Aw gee! 

He slid into the shadow out of sight and flattened 
himself against the wall with an attentive ear to the door 
of the session room. He raised himself by chinning up to 
the window ledge and got a bird’s eye view of the situation 
at a glance. Aw Gee! That old Hair-cut! He wished 
the bells would stop. That sissy in there with her, and 
all these here with Cart, and no telling what’s up next? 
Aw gee! Life was jest one—! He slumped his back to the 
wall and faced the parsonage. Say, what were those two 
cars over there in front of the parsonage? Say! That 
must be the guy, the rich guy! Aw gee! In there with her! 
If he only hadn’t put up that detour! Pat knew what he 
was about after all, a little sissy guy like that—! Aw, 
gee! But two cars! What did two cars mean? 

And over on the parsonage piazza, at the far end in 
the shelter of the vines sat Aunt Saxon in the dark crying. 
Beside her was Mrs. Severn with her hand on the 
woman’s shoulder talking in her gentle steady voice. 

128 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


129 


Everybody loved the minister’s wife just as much as they 
loved the minister: 

“ Yes, he went away on his wheel last night just after 
dark,” she sobbed. “ Yes! he came home after the base¬ 
ball game, and he made a great fuss gettin’ some paint and 
brushes and contrapshions fixed on his old bicycle, and 
then he went off. Oh, he usually goes off awhile every 
night. I can’t seem to stop him. I’ve tried everything 
short of lockin’ him out. I reckon if I did he’d never come 
back, an’ I can’t seem to bring myself to lock out my 
sister’s baby—! ” 

“ Of course not! ” said Mrs. Severn tenderly. 

“ Well, he stuck his head back in the door this time, 
an’ he said mebbe he wouldn’t be back till mornin’, but 
he’d be back all right for Sunday School. That’s one 
thing, Mrs. Severn,” she lifted her tear stained face, 
“ That’s one thing he does like—his Sunday School, 
Billy does, and I’m that glad! Sometimes I just sit down 
an’ cry about it I’m so glad. You know awhile back when 
Miss Lynn was off to college that Mr. Harricutt had the 
boys’ class, an’ I couldn’t get him to go anyhow. Why, 
once I offered to pay him so he could save fer a baseball 
bat if he’d go, but do you know he said he’d rather go 
without baseball bats fer ever than go listen to that old— 
Well, Mrs. Severn, I won’t repeat what he said. It wasn’t 
respectful, not to an elder you know. But Miss Lynn, 
why he just worships, an’ anything she says he does. But 
that’s one thing worries me, Mrs. Severn, he didn't come 
back for her even! He said he’d be back fer Sunday 
School, an’ he hasn’t come back yet! ” 

“ Who does he go with most, Miss Saxon ? Let’s try 
to think where he might be. Perhaps we could call up 
some one and find out where he is.” 

“ Well, I tell you,” wailed the Aunt, “ That’s just it. 
There’s just one person he likes as well, or mebbe better’n 
9 


130 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Miss Mary Lynn, an’ that’s Mark Carter! Mrs. Severn 
I’m just afraid he’s gone off with Mark Carter! ” she 
lowered her voice to a sepulchral whisper, “ And Mrs. 
Severn, they do say that Mark is real wild! ” 

Mrs. Severn sat up a little straighter and put a trifle of 
assurance into her voice, or was it aloofness ?: 

“ Oh, Miss Saxon! ” she said earnestly, “ I don’t think 
you ought to feel that way about Mark. I’ve known him 
since he was a mere baby, and I’ve always loved him. I 
don’t believe Mark will ever do Billy any harm. He’s 
a boy with a strong character. He may do things that 
people don’t understand, but I’d trust him to the limit! ” 

She was speaking eagerly, earnestly, in the words that 
her husband had used to her a few days before, and she 
knew as she said it that she believed it was all true. It 
gave her a great comfort to know that she believed it was 
true. She loved Mark almost as though he were her own. 

Miss Saxon looked up with a sigh and mopped her pink 
wet face: 

“ Well, I certainly am relieved to hear you say that! 
Billy thinks the sun rises and sets in ‘ Cart,’ as he calls 
him. I guess if Cart should call him he’d go to the ends 
of the earth with him. I know I couldn’t stop him. But 
you see Mrs. Severn, I oughtn’t to have to bring up chil¬ 
dren, especially boys? Billy always was headstrong, and 
he’s getting worse every day.” 

‘Tm sure you do your best, Miss Saxon, and I’m sure 
Billy will turn out a fine man some day. My Lynn thinks 
a great deal of him. She feels he’s growing very thought¬ 
ful and manly 

'‘Does she now?” the tired pink face was lifted 
damply with a ray of cheer. 

Then the telephone bell rang. Mrs. Severn rose and 
excused herself to answer it: 

“Yes? Yes, Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Severn is speaking. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


131 


Is anything the matter? Your voice sounds troubled. Oh, 
Mrs. Carter! I’m so sorry, but I’m sure you can trust 
Mark. He’s a man you know and he’s always been an 
unusually dependable boy, especially to us who know him 
well. He’ll come back all right. What? Oh, Mrs. 
Carter! No, I haven’t heard any such reports, but I’m sure 
they’re just gossip. You know how people will talk. 
What do you say? They phoned you from Economy? 
Who? The police? They asked for Mark? Well, I 
wouldn’t let that worry you. Mark always was helpful 
to the police in finding people, or going with them after a 
lost car, you know. I wouldn’t worry. Who? Billy? 
Billy Gaston? Oh, you saw Billy this morning? Well, 
that’s good. His aunt has worried all day about him. I’ll 
tell her. Who? A sick man on the mountain? Well, now 
Mrs. Carter, don’t you know Mark always was doing 
things for people in trouble ? He’ll come home safely, but 
of course we’ll just turn the earth upside down to find him 
for we are not going to let you and Miss Saxon worry 
any longer. Just you wait till Mr. Severn gets back. He’s 
in a session meeting and it oughtn’t to last long, it was 
just a special meeting called hurriedly. He’ll come right 
over as soon as it’s out and see what he can do to help. 
Yes, of course he will. No don’t bother to thank me. He 
would want to of course. Good-bye! ” 

She came hopefully out to the piazza to Miss Saxon. 
But just at that instant Billy’s aunt jumped to her feet, her 
eyes large with excitement, and pointed toward the open 
session door, where framed against the light stood Mark 
Carter, straight and tall facing the circle of men, and 
behind him, out in the dark, with only his swaggy old 
sweater shoulder and the visor of his floppy old cap show¬ 
ing around the door jamb lurked Billy. 

“ There! There! ” Whispered Mrs. Severn, patting 
her shoulder. “ I told you he’d come back all right. Now, 


132 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


don’t you worry about it, and don’t you scold him. Just 
go home and get him some supper. He’ll be likely very 
hungry, and then get him to go right to bed. Wait till 
to-morrow to settle up. Miss Saxon, it’s always better, 
then we have clearer judgment and are not nearly so 
likely to lose our tempers and say the wrong thing.” 

The bells had stopped ringing, and Marilyn had closed 
the organ and drawn the window shut. The two 
strangers were trailing slowly across the lawn, the lady 
laughing loudly. Miss Saxon eyed them with the kind of 
fascination a wild rabbit has for a strange dog, pressed 
the hand of the minister’s wife with a fervent little 
squeeze, and scurried away into the dark street. Marilyn 
lingered silently on the front steps after the janitor had 
locked the door inside and gone back to the session room. 

In the session room Mark Carter, white with the ex¬ 
periences of the night and day, yet alert, stern, questioning, 
stood looking from one man to another, keenly, uncom¬ 
promisingly. This was a man whom any would notice in 
a crowd. Character, physical perfection, strength of will 
all combined to make him stand out from other men. And 
over it all, like a fire from within there played an over¬ 
whelming sadness that had a transparent kind of refining 
effect, as if a spirit dwelt there who by sheer force of will 
went on in the face of utter hopelessness. 

The stillness in the session room was tense as the self 
appointed jury faced their victim and tried to look him 
down; then slowly recognized something that made them 
uneasy, and one by one each pair of eyes save two, were 
vanquished and turned embarrassedly away, or sought the 
pattern of the mossy carpet. 

Those two pairs of eyes that were friendly Mark 
found out at once, and it was as if he embraced them with 
his own. His friends—Duncannon and the minister! He 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


133 


shot a grateful glance at them and faced the others down, 
but opened not his lips. 

At last Harricutt, his chief accuser, mustered up his 
sharp little eyes again from under the overhanging eaves 
of rough gray brow, and shot out a disagreeable under lip : 

“ We have sent for you, here, to-night, Mark Carter,” 
he began slowly, impressively, raising a loose jointed long 
forefinger accusingly, as he gained courage, “ to inquire 
concerning the incriminating reports that are in circulation 
with regard to your character.” 

Mark turned his hard eyes toward the elder, and 
seemed to congeal into something inflexible, impenetrable, 
as if he had suddenly let down a cold sheet iron door be¬ 
tween his soul and them, against which the words, like shot 
or pebbles, rattled sharp and unharming and fell in a 
shower at the feet of the speaker. There was something 
about his bearing that became a prince or president, and 
always made a fault finder feel small and inadequate. The 
minister felt his heart throb with a thrill of pride in the 
boy as he stood there just with his presence hurling back 
the suspicions that had met to undo him. His stern young 
face was like a mask of something that had once been 
beautiful with life, whose utter sorrow and hopelessness 
pierced one at the sight. And so he stood and looked at 
Elder Harricutt, who shot him one glance and then looking 
down began to fiddle with his watch chain, halting in 
his speech: 

“ They say—” he began again with a hiss, as he lifted 
his eyes, strong in the consciousness that he was not 
alone in his accusation,—“ They say —/ " 

“ Please leave what they say out of the question, Mr. 
Harricutt. What do you say? ” Mark’s voice was cold, 
incisive, there was nothing quailing in his tone. 

“ Young man, we can’t leave what they say out of 
the question! It plays a very important part in the repu- 


134 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


tation of the Church of Christ of which you are an un¬ 
worthy part,” shot back the hard old man, “We are here 
to know what you have to say concerning the things that 
are being said openly about you.” 

“A man does not always know what is being said 
about him, Mr. Harricutt.” Still that hard cold voice, 
still indifferent to the main issue, and ready to fight it. 

“ A man ought to! ” snapped Harricutt impatiently. 

Suddenly, without warning, the mask lifted, the curve 
of the lips drew up at the left corner revealing the row of 
even white teeth, and a twinkle at the corners of the gray, 
thoughtful eyes, giving in a flash a vision of the merry 
mischief-loving boy he had been, and his whole coun¬ 
tenance was lit. Mark was never so attractive as when 
smiling. It brought out the lovingness of his eyes, and 
took away the hard oldness of his finely cut features. 

“ Mr. Harricutt, I have often wondered if you knew 
all that people say about you?” 

“WHAT?” 

There was sudden stir in the session room. The elders 
moved their chairs with a swishing sound, cleared their 
throats hastily, and put sudden hands up to hide furtive 
smiles. Elder Duncannon grinned broadly, there was a 
twinkle in even the minister’s eyes, and outside the door 
Billy manfully stifled a snicker. Elder Harricutt shot his 
angry little eyes around in the mirthful atmosphere, start¬ 
ing at Mark’s quizzical smile, and going around the uneasy 
group of men, back to Mark again. But the smile was 
gone! One could hardly be sure it had been there at all. 
Mark was hard cold steel again, a blank wall, impenetrable. 
There was no sign that the young man intended to repeat 
the mocking offense. 

“ Young man! This is no time for levity! ” he roared 
forth menacingly. 

“ You are on the verge of being arrested for murder! 
Did you know it? ” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


135 


The minister watching, thought he saw a quiver go 
through the steady eyes, a slight contracting of the pupil, 
a hardening of the sensitive mouth, that was all. The boy 
stood unflinching, and spoke with steady lips: 

“ I did not.” 

“ Well, you are! “ reiterated the elder, “ And even if 
the man doesn’t die, there is plenty else. Answer me this 
question. It’s no use beating around the bush. Where 
were you at three o’clock this morning? ” 

The answer came without hesitation, steadily, frankly: 

“ On Stark’s Mountain, as nearly as I can make out.” 

Billy held his breath and wondered what was coming 
next. He caught his hands on the window ledge and 
chinned himself again, his eyes and the fringe of his dis¬ 
hevelled brown hair appearing above the window sill, but 
the startled session was not looking out the window just 
then. Mr. Harricutt looked slightly put out. Stark’s 
Mountain had nothing to do with this matter, and the 
young man was probably trying to prove an alibi. He sat 
up jerkily and placed his elbows on the chair arms, touch¬ 
ing the tips of his long bony fingers, fitting them together 
carefully and speaking in aggravated detached syllables in 
rhythm with the movement of his fingers. 

“ Young—man! An—swer me!— Ware —you—or 
ware you— not —at—the—Blue— Duck— Tavern—last 
—evening? ” 

Blue and red lights seemed to flicker in the cold steel 
eyes of the young man. 

“ I was! ” 

“A—hemmm! ” The elder glanced around tri¬ 
umphantly, and went on with the examination: 

“ Well,—young man! —Ware you—or—ware you 
not —ac—companied—by a young wumman—of—no¬ 
torious—I may say—infamous character ? In other words 
—a young girl—commonly called—Cherry? Cherry 
Fenning I believe is her whole name. Ware you with her ?” 


136 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Mark’s face was set, his eyes were glaring. The min¬ 
ister felt that if ITarricutt had dared look up he would 
almost be afraid, now. 

But after an instant’s hesitation when it almost looked 
as if Mark were struggling with desire to administer cor¬ 
poral punishment to the little old bigot, he lifted his head 
defiantly and replied in hard tones as before : 

“ I was! ” 

“ There! ” said Elder Harricutt, wetting his lips and 
smiling fiendishly around the group, “ There! Didn’t I 
tell you ?” 

“ May I inquire,” asked Mark startlingly, “ What busi¬ 
ness of yours it is? ” 

Harricutt bristled. 

“ What business ? What business f ” he repeated 
severely, “ Why, this business, young man. Your name is 
on our church roll as a member in good and regular 
standing! For sometime past you have been dragging 
the name of our Lord and Saviour in the dust of dishonor 
by your goings on. It is our responsibility as elders of this 
church to see that this goes on no longer.” 

“ I see! ” said Mark, “ I haven’t heard from any of the 
other elders on the subject, but assuming that you are all 
of one mind—” he swept the room with his glance, 
omitting the stricken faces of the minister and Mr. 
Duncannon, “ I will relieve you of further responsibility 
in the matter by asking you to strike my name from the 
roll at once.” 

He was turning, his look of white still scorn fell upon 
them like fire that scorches. Outside the door Billy, for¬ 
getful that he might be seen, was peering in, his brows 
down in deep scawls, his lower jaw protruded, his grimy 
fists clenched. A fraction of a second longer and Billy 
would butt into the session like some mad young goat. 
Respect for the session? Not he! They were bullying 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


137 


his idol, Cart, who had already gone through death and 
still lived! They should see! Aw Gee! 

But a diversion occurred just in the nick of time. It 
was Joyce, the new member, the owner of the canneries, 
who had just built a new house with electric appliances, 
and owned the best car in town. He was a stickler for 
proprieties, but he was a great admirer of the minister, 
and he had been watching Mr. Severn’s face. Also, he 
had watched Mark’s. 

“ Now, now, now, young brother!” he said sooth¬ 
ingly, rising in his nice pleasant gentlemanly way, “ don’t 
be hasty! This can all be adjusted I am sure if we fully 
understand one another. I am a comparative stranger 
here I know, but I would suggest taking this thing 
quietly and giving Mr. Carter a chance to explain himself. 
You must own, Brother Carter, that we had some reason 
to be anxious. You know, the Bible tells us to avoid even 
the appearance of evil.” 

Mark turned with perfect courtesy to this new voice: 

“ The Bible also tells us not to judge one another! ” he 
replied quickly. “Mr. Joyce, you are a stranger here, but 
I am not. They have known me since childhood. Also 
there are some items that might be of interest to you. 
Cherry Fenning five years ago was a little girl in this 
Sunday School. She stood up in that pulpit out there one 
Children’s Sunday and sang in a sweet little voice, ‘J esus 
loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.’ She was an 
innocent little child then, and everybody praised her. 
Now, because she has been talked about you are all ready 
to condemn her. And who is going to help her ? I tell you 
if that is the kind of Christ you have, and the kind of 
Bible you are following I want no more of it and I am 
ready to have my name taken off the roll at once.” 

Harricutt rose in his excitement pointing his long- 
flapping forefinger: 




138 


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“You see, gentlemen, you see! He defies us! He 
goes farther! He defies his God! ” 

Suddenly the minister rose with uplifted hand, and 
the voice that never failed to command attention, spoke: 

“ Let us pray! ” 

With sudden startled indrawing of breath, and half 
obedient bowing of the heads, the elders paused, standing 
or sitting as they were, and Mark with high defiant head 
stood looking straight at his old friend. 

“ Oh, God, our Father, O Jesus Christ our Saviour,” 
prayed the minister in a voice that showed he felt the 
Presence near, “ Save us in this trying moment from com¬ 
mitting further sin. Give us Thy wisdom, and Thy loving¬ 
kindness. Show us that only he that is without sin among 
us may cast the first stone. Put thy love about us all. We 
are all Thy children. Amen.” 

Into the silence that followed this prayer his voice con¬ 
tinued quietly: 

“ I will ask Mr. Harricutt to take the chair for a 
moment. I would like to make a motion.” 

The elders looked abashed. 

“ Why,—I,—” began Harricutt, and then saw there 
was nothing else for him to do, and stepped excitedly over 
to the minister’s seat behind the table, and sank reluctantly 
down, trying to think how he could best make use of his 
present position to further his side of the question. 

The minister was still standing, seeming to hold within 
his gaze the eyes of every one in the room including Mark. 

“ I wish to make a motion,” said the minister, “I move 
that we have a rising vote, expressing our utmost confi¬ 
dence in Mr. Carter, and leaving it to his discretion to ex¬ 
plain his conduct or not as he pleases! I have known this 
dear young brother since he was a boy, and I would trust 
him always, anywhere, with anything! ” 

A wonderful shiny look of startled wonder, and deep 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


139 


joy came into the eyes of the young man, followed by a 
stabbing cloud of anguish, and then the hard controlled 
face once more, with the exception of a certain tenderness 
as he looked toward the minister. 

“Mr. Duncannon, will you second my motion?” 
finished Severn. 

The long gaunt dark elder was on his feet instantly: 

“ Sure, Brother Severn, I second that motion. If you 
hadn’t got ahead of me I’d have firsted it myself. I know 
Mark. He’s all right! 39 and he put out a hairy hand and 
grasped Mark’s young strong fingers, that gripped 
his warmly. 

Harricutt was on his feet, tapping on the table with his 
pencil: “ I think this motion is out of order,” he cried 

excitedly—but no one listened, and the minister said 
calmly, “ Will the chair put the question?” 

Baffled, angry, bitter, the old stickler went through the 
hated words : “It is moved and seconded that we express 
our confidence—” 

“ Utmost confidence, Brother Harricutt—“ broke in 
the minister’s voice. “ The red came up in the elder’s face, 
but he choked out the words “ utmost confidence,” on 
through the whole motion, and by the time it was out four 
elders were on their feet, Duncannon and Joyce first, thank 
God, Gibson, more slowly, Fowler pulled up by the strong 
wiry hand of Duncannon who sat next him. 

“ Stop! ” suddenly spoke Mark’s clear incisive voice, 
“ I cannot let you do this. I deeply appreciate the confi¬ 
dence of Mr. Severn and Mr. Duncannon,” he paused 
looking straight into the eyes of the new elder and added— 
“ and Mr. Joyce, who does not know me. But I am not 
worthy of so deep a trust. I ask you to remove my name 
* from your church roll that in future my actions shall not 
be your responsibility! ” With that he gave one lingering 
tender look toward the minister, pressed hard the hairy 






140 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


hand of the old Scotch elder, and went out of the room be¬ 
fore anyone realized he was going. 

Billy, with a gasp, and a look after his beloved idol, 
hesitated, then pulled himself together and made a dash 
into the session room, like a catapult landing straight in the 
spot where Mark had stood, but ignoring all the rest he 
looked up at the minister and spoke rapidly: 

“ Mr. Severn, please sir. Mark was with me last night 
from twelve o’clock on. Me an’ him passed the Pleasant 
view Station in a car going over to Stark’s Mountain, just 
as the bells was ringing over here fer midnight, cause I 
counted ’em, and Mark was over to Stark’s Mountain till 
most noon to-day, and I come home with him 1 ” 

The minister’s face was blazing with glory, and old 
Duncannon patted Billy on the shoulder, and beamed, but 
Harricutt arose with menace in his eye and advanced on 
the young intruder. However, before anyone could do 
anything about it a strong firm hand reached out from the 
doorway and plucked Billy by the collar: 

“ That’ll do, Kid, Keep your mouth shut and don’t say 
another word! ” It was Mark and he promptly removed 
Billy from the picture. 

“ I move we adjourn,” said Elder Duncannon, “ but 
the minister did not even wait for the motion to be sec¬ 
onded. He followed Mark out into the moonlight, and 
drew him, Billy and all, across the lawn toward the par¬ 
sonage, one arm thrown lovingly across Mark’s shoulder. 
He had forgotten entirely the two guests parked on the 
piazza smoking cigarettes!. 


XII 


As the shades of evening had drawn down two figures 
■ that had been lurking all day in the fastnesses of Lone 
Valley over beyond the state Highway, stole forth and 
crept sealthily under cover to Stark Mountain. 

A long time they lingered in the edge of the woods till 
the dark was velvet black around them, before the moon 
arose. Then slowly, cautiously they drew* near the haunted 
house, observing it long and silently from every possible 
angle, till satisfied that no enemy was about. Yet taking 
no chances even then, the taller one crept forth from 
t shelter while the other watched. So stealthily he went that 
even his companion heard no stir. 

It was some ten minutes that Shorty waited there in 
the bushes scarcely daring to breathe, while Link painfully 
quiet, inch by inch encircled the house, and listened, try¬ 
ing the front door first and finding it fast; softly testing 
the cellar windows one by one, beginning from the eastern 
end, going toward the front first, and so missing the 
window by which Billy had entered. A hundred times his 
operation was halted by the sound of a rat scuttling across 
the floor, or racketing in the wall, but the hollow echoes 
assured him over and over again that the house was not 
occupied, at least not by anyone awake and in his senses. 
Link had been in the business so long that he “ felt ” when 
there was an enemy near. That was what vexed him now. 
He had “ felt ” that morning that someone was near, but 
he had laid it to nerves and the reported ghost, and had 
not heeded his trained faculties. He was back now doubly 
alert to discover the cause and make good his failure in 
the morning. He had undertaken to look after this guy 
and see this job through and there was big money in it. He 






142 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


was heavily armed and prepared for any reasonable sur¬ 
prise. He meant to get this matter straight before morning. 
So, feeling his way along in the blackness, listening, halt¬ 
ing at every moment with bated breath, he came at last to 
the back door, and drawing himself up to the steps, took 
the knob in his hand and turned it. To his surprise it yielded 
to his touch, and the door came open. And yet it was some 
seconds of tense listening before he let himself down to 
the ground again, and with his hand in the grass let out a 
tiny winking flashlight, no more than a firefly would 
flicker, and out again. 

This was answered by a wink from the bushes, as if 
the same firefly or its mate might be glowing, and after an 
instant another wink from the ground near the house. 
Slowly Shorty arrived without noise, his big bulk muffling 
in fat the muscles of velvet. It was incredible how light 
his step could be— professionally. It was as if he had been 
wafted there like down. Silently still and without com¬ 
munication the two drifted into the open door, sent a 
searching glowworm ahead into the crannies of the dusty, 
musty kitchen, surprising a mouse that had stolen forth 
domestically. The door being shut and fastened cautiously, 
the key in Link’s pocket, they drifted through the swing 
door, as air might have circulated, identifying the mouse’s 
scuttle, the rattle of a rat among the loose coal in the cellar 
bin, the throaty chirp of a cricket outside in the grass, and 
drifting on. 

Thus they searched the lower floor, even as Billy had 
done, though more thoroughly, and mounted to the landing 
above, here they divided, Shorty at watch in the hall, while 
Link went to the front rooms first and searched each 
hastily, not omitting closets, ending at the back room where 
the prisoner had been. 

“ He’s gone! ” said Link in a hoarse whisper, speaking 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


143 


for the first time after a hasty scanning of the shad¬ 
owy place. 

Shorty took the precaution to turn the key of the door 
leading to the third story before he entered to investigate. 

“ Do you think it was him fired that shot ? ” 

Link shook his head. 

“ Couldn’t! I had him lifted up in my arms and was 
just handing him some more dope when the sound come. 
It seemed it was out front. It must a been somebody in 
the front room. Sure! That guy never coulda got them 
bracelets off hisself. Looka here! Them was filed off! ” 
They stood with the flash light between them examining 
the handcuffs, and then turned their attention to the rest 
of the room, studying the bed and floors carefully for any 
( traces of the possible assistant to the runaway but finding 
none. Then they went in the front room again, and this 
time discovered the lowered window and the little half 
moon aperture in the shutter. 

“How do you figger it?” asked Shorty turning a 
ghastly face toward Link in the plaided darkness of the 
: flash light. 

“ Pat! ” said Link laconically. 

" Pat?” 

“ Pat. He’s yella! I told Sam, but he would have him! 
I ain’t sure but Sam’s yella! I think I’m about done with 
this outfit! ” 

“ But Pat? What would he do it for? ” 

“ Goin to run the whole game hisself, perhaps, or then 
again he might be in with Sam, so they won’t have to divvy 
up. He could say we hadn’t kept out contrac’ you know, 
runnin’ away like that.” 

“ We ain’t to blame. How’d we know it want the 
police ? We had a mighty close shave over that state line 
this A..M.” 

“Well, that’s what he could say, an’ refuse to divvy 






144 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


up. But b’lieve me, Shorty! Nobody’s goin’ to do me dirty 
like that! Somebody’s been doing us dirty, you and me, 
and it’s good and right we beat ’em to it.” 

“ Yes, but how ya goin’ to do it? ” 

“ I ain’t sure yet, but I’m goin’ to do it. The first 
thing, Shorty, is fer us to get outta here mighty good an’ 
quick. Ef anybody’s watchin’ round, we better not be 
here. We’ll fade away. See?” 

Without flash or noise they faded, going cautiously out 
by the front door this time and disappearing into the dark 
of the woods just as the horizon over Lone Valley began to 
show luminous in the path of the oncoming moon. 

They walked several miles, stealthily, and a mile or two 
more naturally, before they ventured on a word, and then 
Shorty impatiently: 

“ I don’t see what you can do. Whattirya goin’ ta do?” 

“ Don’t get excited, Shorty, I see my way out,” said 
Link affably, “ I didn’t come off here half cocked. I inves¬ 
tigated before I took on the job.” 

“ Whaddaya mean? ” 

“ Well, I just looked up the parties in the blue book 
before I come off. Didn’t have much time, but I just 
looked ’em up. Great thing that blue book. Gives ya 
lots of information. Then I got another thing, a maga¬ 
zine I always buy and keep on hand. It’s called The 
House Lovely, an’ it has all these grand gentlemen’s places 
put down in pictures, with plans and everything. It’s real 
handy when you wantta find out how to visit ’em sort of 
intimate like, and it kind of broadens yer mind. It’s a real 
pity you never learned to read, Shorty. There’s nothing 
like it fer getting valuable information. I read a lot and 
I always remember anything that’s worth while.” 

“I don’t see how that’s doin’ us any good now,” 
growled Shorty. 

“ Don’t get hasty, Shorty, I’m cornin’ to it. You see 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


145 


these here Shaftons have been on my mind fer some while 
; back. I make it a point to know about guys like that. I 
read the society columns and keep posted about little de¬ 
tails. It pays, Shorty. Now see! I happen to know that 
these here Shaftons have several summer homes, one in 
the mountains, one at the seashore, one up at an island 
out in the ocean, and a farm down in Jersey, where they 
go at Christmas fer the holidays sometimes. Well, just 
now I happen to know Mrs. Shafton—that’s this guy’s 
mother, is down at the Jersey house all alone with the 
servants. Real handy fer our purposes, ain’t it? Not so 
far we can’t get there by mornin’ if we half try, and the 
old man is off out West on a business trip.” 

“ What you gonta do? ” asked Shorty. 

“ Well, I haven’t exactly got it all doped out yet, but 
I reckon our business is with the old lady. Let’s beat it as 
fast as we can to a trolley and dope it out as we go. You 
see this here old woman is nuts on her son, and she’s lousy 
with money and don’t care how she spends it, so her baby 
boy is pleased. Now,-1 figger if we could come off with 
! five thousand apiece, you’n I we’d be doin’ a good night’s 
; work and no mistake. Whaddayou say? ” 

“ Sure thing,” grumped Shorty unbelievingly. 

“ You see,” continued Link, “ We’re in bad, this guy 
escaping and all, and like as not Pat swiping all the boodle 
and layin’ the blame onto us. You can’t tell what might 
happen with Pat an’ Sam, the dirty devils. They might 
even let it come to a trial and testify against us. Sam has 
it in fer me an’ you this long time, ’count of that last pretty 
little safe blow-out that didn’t materialize. See ? ” 

Shorty growled gloomily. 

“ Now on the other hand if we can step in before it is 
too late, or before the news of his havin’ escaped gets to 
his fond parents, and get in our little work, we might at 
least make expenses out of it and beat it out of the country 

10 






146 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


fer a while. I been thinkin’ of South America fer my 
health fer some time past. How ’bout you ?” 

“ Suits me. But how you gonta work it ? ” 

“ Well, you see I know a little bit about wimmen. An’ 
I seen this woman oncet. If she was one of these here new¬ 
fangled political kind you couldn’t do nothin’ with her, 
she’d be onta you in no time an’ have you up before the 
supreme court ’fore she goddone, but this here woman is 
one o’ them old fashioned, useless kind that’s afraid of 
everything and cries easy, and gets scairt at her shadder. 
I seen her on the board walk once with her husband, took 
notice to her, thought I might need it sometime. She 
has gray hair but she ain’t never growed up. She was 
ridin’ in a wheeled chair, an’ him walkin’ beside her an’ 
a man behind pushin’ her, an’ a maid cornin’ along with 
a fur coat. She never done a thing fer herself, not even 
think, an’ that’s the kind you can put anything over on 
from a teaparty to a blizzard without her suspectin’ a 
thing. Shorty, I’m gonta make up to Mrs. Shafton 
an’ see what I can get out of her. But we gotta get a trol¬ 
ley line down to Unity an’ catch that evenin’ train. See? ” 
About half-past ten that night, with the moon at full sail, 
Shorty and Link, keeping the shady side of the street, 
slunk into a little obscure, and as yet unsuppressed saloon 
in a back street in a dirty little manufacturing city not 
many miles from Unity. Just off the side entrance was a 
back hall in which lurked a dark smelly little telephone 
booth under a staircase, too far removed from the noisy 
crowd that frequented the place to be heard. Here Link 
took instant refuge with Shorty bulking largely in front 
of the door, smoking a thin black twisted cigar, and look¬ 
ing anything but happy. He had figured greatly on getting 
his share of a million, and now at a single shot he had let 
it go through his fingers. There were reasons why he 
needed that part of a million at once. 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


147 


Link had all sorts of nerve. He called up the Shafton 
home in New Jersey and jollied the maid, calling her 
girlie, and saying he was in the employ of young Laurie 
Shafton and had a special private message from the young 
man to his mother. It was not long before a peevish 
elderly voice in his ear said: 

“ Well? Mrs. Shafton at the phone.” 

And Link sailed in: 

“ Mrs. Shafton, I got a message from your son, a very 
private message. He said, would you please send your 
maid out of the room first before I told you? ” 

She seemed annoyed and hesitant at this, but 
finally complied: 

“ Now, Mrs. Shafton, you don’t need to get worried at 
what I’m tellin’ you. Your son ain’t dead, nor nothing 
like that you know, but he’s just met with a little accident. 
No, now, wait a minute till I tell you. You don’t need to 
get excited ner nothing. If you just keep calm an’ do as I 
tell you it’ll all come out right in the end—” 

He could tell by her voice that she was much excited 
and that so far his scheme was working well. If he could 
only pull the rest off! He winked one eye jauntily at 
Shorty who was standing wide-mouthed, bulging-eyed 
listening, and went on 

“No, he didn’t have no collision, ma’am, he just got 
kidnapped you see. And not wanting to get found out, 
natchelly the kidnappers give him a little dope to keep his 
mouth shut fer a while. What’s that ? Who’m I ? Well, 
now, Mrs. Shafton, that’s tellin,’ ain’t it? I wouldn’t want 
to go so far as that ’thout I was sure of your cooperation. 
What’s that ? You’ll reward me ? Oh, thanks, that’s what 
I was figgering about. You see I’m in rather of a hole 
myself. That’s what. You see, much against my will 
I was one of the kidnappers myself ma’am. Yes ma’am, 
much against my will! You see I’m a farmer’s son myself, 




148 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


good an’ honest and respectable. Never had nothin’ to do 
with such doin’s in my life, my word of honor, lady. But 
I come to town just to look around an’ have a bit of fun 
an’ I got in with a bad lot, an’ they pract’cally compelled 
me to assist ’em in this here kidnappin.’ Oh, I didn’t do"/' 
nothin’, jest helped to carry him— Oh, ma’am, it ain’t that 
bad. He’s still livin’ an’ he’ll be awwright if you just he’p 
me to get him away ’thout their knowin’. Yes ma’am. I’m 
honest. I’m offerin’ to help you. You see, when I see him : 
layin’ there on the bed— Oh, yes, he’s on a bed, I ain’t ^ 
sayin’ how comfortable it is, but it’s a bed, an’ he ain’t V 
sufferin’ now,—but of course if they don’t get what they 
want they may put him to the torture jest to get more 
outta you all—No, ma’am don’t scream that way ur I’ll 
have to hang up. This is on the q. t. you know. What? 
You don’t understand? Why, I was sayin’ you mustn’t 
let a soul know what’s happened. Not a soul. If it should 
get out an’ his kidnappers should find it out they’d kill 
him easy as a fly an’ no mistake. You gotta go slow on j 
this. Yes, lady, they’re desperate characters, I’m sayin y 
it! an’ the sooner you get your son outta their han’s the 
better fer his future, lady, fer even if he should escape 
after they’d been found out they’d probably lame him fer 
life or put out his eyes or some little old thing like that, ^ 
so you see, lady, you gotta talk low an’ take care you don’t 
let on to no one. If you should turn yella it ud be all up 
with little Laurie an’ no mistake, so keep yer mouth shet 
an’ do as I tell ye, and I’ll help ye out. Yes, as I was sayin’ 
when I seen little Laurie layin’ there so still an’ white, my 
conscience—There, there, lady, don’t you take on—as I <j 
was sayin’ my conscience troubled me, an’ I says, I’m 
agonta get this fella free! So I figgered out a way. You 
see lady, there’s two of us, me’n another feller set to 
watch ’im, an’ feed him dope if he tries to wake up, an’ 
when I get feelin’ worried about it I says to the other fella I 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


149 


j 1 wa s agonta tell his folks, an’ he says he’ll shoot me, but 
I keeps on tellin him how sinful ’twas to make a poor 
* mother suffer—I gotta mother myself ma’am! Yes ma’am 
, a good old mother, an’ she taught me to be honest, so I 
j says to thother fella, I says what’ll you take an’ git out, 
I an’ he says ten thousand dollars, an’ I says, awwright, I’ll 
get it fer ya, an’ so now lady, ’f I was you I’d pay it right 
down quick ’fore he changes his mind. Cause the other 
fellas they was goin’ to ast a million, an’ kill ’im if you 
. didn’t fall fer it right to oncet. No ma’am I don’t want 
nothin’ fer myself. I just want to go back to the old 
farm with a clean conscience. What ? Oh, yes, I want the 
money right away, that is before mornin’. If we can’t get 
him out before mornin’ it ain’t no use, fer the other 
fellas is cornin’ back an’ move him an’ we can’t do nothin’ ? 

! ' What ? Where is he ? I couldnt’ really say, lady, it 
wouldn’t be allowed, an’ my mate he’s outside the tele¬ 
phone booth with a loaded revolver holdin’ it up to my 
head, and he’s listenin’ an’ ef I give anythin’ away he’d 
shoot me on the spot. So where would your nice lookin’ 
l son be then? Mrs. Shafton hadn’t you better—? That’s 
| right lady, I knew you’d thank me, an’ yes, now I’ll tell you 
1 what to do. First place, how much money ya got in the 
house? No, that’s not ’nough. That wouldn’t do a mite 
! of good, it wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket. Ain’t ya got 
any bonds, ur jewels or papers ? Yes, that’s the talk! Now 
yer shoutin’—Yes, lady, that would do. No,—not that. 
You gotta have something that he can’t get caught with. I 
know you’re loosin’ a lot lady, but you got lots left, and 
what’s money an’ jewels compared to your only son, 
ma’am? Why, think how he used to look when he 
wore little white dresses an’ used to come to have his head 
kissed when he fell down! Wasn’t he sweet, lady, and he 
had a pair of little blue shoes didn’t he? I thought so. 





150 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Say, lady, you’r the right sort! I knowed you must be to 
be a mother of such a handsome son. Now, lady, could 
you hustle those things together you spoke of an’ any 
more you may happen to come on, and just put ’em in a 
little box er basket, and tie a string on ’em an’ let ’em 
down outta yer winda ? It’s all I’ll ask. Let ’em down 
outta yer winda. Then you turn out the lights and turn 
’em on again three times real quick, out an’ in, an’ that’ll 
be the signal. An’ after ten minutes you look out yer 
front winda an’ off as fur as ye can see an’ I’ll flash a signal ^ 
light to ya jest to let ya know it’s all right. An’ I’ll 
promise you on my word of honor that you’ll hear your 
own son’s voice over the telephone good an’ early to¬ 
morrow mornin’ an’ no mistake. But lady, ye mustn’t 
turn yella an’ holler ner nothin or we’ll fling yer jewels an’ 
paper back in yer yard an' let yer son die. We ain’t goin’ - 
to run no chances ye know. You ain’t got no dogs, have j 
ye? And which side is yer room on? The front? Yes, 
an’ which is the easiest way to get to the house without 
cornin’ near the servants’ quarters? To the right? Yes, I 
see. An’ you’ll play straight? All right lady. Your son’s 
as good as home now. I’ll give you just one hour by the 
clock to get yer stuff together, but mind ya, if ya weaken 
an’ try to put the p’lice onto me, I got a way to signal my ' 
pal, an’ he’ll have that boy o’ yours shot within five minutes 
after you call fer help? Understand? Oh, yes, I know 
lady, you wouldn’t do no such a thing, but my pal he made 
me say that. He’s a desperate man lady, an’ there ain’t no 
use toyin’ with him. All right. One hour. It’s just 
quarter to ’leven. Good-bye! ” 

Link came lounging out of the booth mopping his ! 
wet forehead: 

She fell fer it all right,” he said jerking a wan smile, 
but he looked as though the last of his own nerve had gone 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


151 


into the telephone receiver. “ She wanted to put in an 
extra check, but I told her we’d be generous and let it go 
at what she could find without her name on it. Gosh, 
what fools some wommen are! I thought I got her num¬ 
ber all right, a whimperin’ fool! A whimperin’ little old 
fool! Now, Shorty, all we gotta do is collect the boodle. 
It’s up to you to watch outside the hedge. I’m takin’ all 
the risks this time m’self, an’ I’m goin’ to ferret my way 
under that there madam’s winder. You stay outside and 
gimme the signal. Ef you get cold feet an’ leave me in 
the lurch you don’t get no dividends, See ? ” 





XIII 


Billy, with that fine inner sense that some boys have, 
perceived that there was deep emotion of a silent sort be¬ 
tween the minister and Mark, and he drifted away from 
them unnoticed, back toward the car. 

“ Billy! ” whispered Lynn, rising from the upper step 
in the shadow of the church. 

The boy turned with a quick silent stride and was 
beside her: 

“ I couldn’t help it, Miss Lynn, I really couldn’t— 
There was something very important— Cart— That is— 
Cart needed me! I knew you’d understand.” 

“ Yes, Billy, I understand. Somehow I knew you were 
with Mark. It’s good to have a friend like you, Billy! ” 
She smiled wanly. 

Billy looked up half proud, half ashamed: 

“ It’s nothin’!” said Billy, “I just had to. Cart— 
well, I had to.” 

“ I know, Billy— Mark needed you. And Billy,— if 
there’s any trouble—any—any—that is if Mark ever needs 
you, you’ll stick by him I know? ” 

“ Sure! ” said Billy looking up with a sudden searching 
glance, “ Sure, I’ll stick by him! ” 

“ And if there’s anything—anything that ought to be 
done—why—I mean anything we could do—Billy,—you’ll 
let us know ? ” 

“ Sure, I will! ” There was utmost comprehension in 
the firm young voice. Billy kicked his heel softly into the 
grass by the walk, looking down embarrassedly. He half 
started on toward the car and then turning back he said 
suddenly, “ Why doncha go see Cherry, Miss Lynn? ” 

“ Cherry? ” she said startled, her face growing white 
in the darkness. 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


153 


The boy nodded, stuffing his hands deep into his 
pockets and regarding her with sudden boldness. He 
opened his lips as if he would speak further, then thought 
better of it and closed them again firmly, dropping his eyes 
as if he were done with the topic. There was a bit of 
silence, then Lynn said gravely: 

“ Perhaps I will,” and “ Thank you, Billy.” 

Billy felt as though the balm of Gilead had suddenly 
been poured over his tired heart. 

“ G’night! ” he murmured, feeling that he had put his 
troubles into capable hands that would care for them as 
he would himself. 

There had been no word spoken between the minister 
and Mark as they went together toward the parsonage, 
but there had seemed to each to be a great clearing of the 
clouds between them, and a tender love springing anew, 
with warm understanding and sympathy. Mark felt him¬ 
self a boy again, with the minister’s arm across his 
shoulder, and a strong yearning to confide in this under¬ 
standing friend, swept over him. If there had been a quiet 
place with no one about just then there is no telling what 
might have happened to change the story from that point 
on, but their silent intercourse was rudely interrupted by 
the voice of Laurie Shafton breaking in: 

“ Oh, I say, Mr. Severn, who did you say that man 
was that could fix cars? I’d like to call him up and see if 
he doesn’t happen to have some bearings now. He surely 
must have returned by this time hasn’t he? I’d like 
to take these girls a spin. The moon is perfectly gorgeous. 
We could go in the lady’s car, only it is smaller and I 
thought I’d ask your daughter to go along.” 

“ Oh! ” said the minister suddenly brought back into 
the world of trivial things? “Why, this is Mr. Carter, Mr. 
Shafton. He can speak for himself.” 


154 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Mark stood with lifted head and his princely look re¬ 
garding the interloper with cold eyes. He acknowledged 
the introduction almost haughtily, and listened to the story 
of the burnt out bearings without a change of countenance, 
then said gravely: 

“ I think I can fix you up in the morning.” 

“Not to-night?” asked the spoiled Laurie with a 
frown of displeasure. 

“ Not to-night,” said Mark with a finality that some¬ 
how forbade even a Shafton from further parley. 

Opal had regarded Mark from the vine covered porch 
as he stood with bared head in the moonlight and clattered 
down on her tiny patent leather pumps to be introduced. 
She came and stood hanging pertly on Laurie Shafton s 
arm as if he were her private property, with her large 
limpid eyes fixed upon the stranger, this prince of a man 
that had suddenly turned up in this funny little coun¬ 
try dump. 

She put her giddy little tongue into the conversation, 
something about how delicious it would be to take a little 
ride to-night, implying that Mark might go along if he 
would fix up the car. She was dressed in a slim, clinging 
frock of some rich Persian gauzy silk stuff, heavy with 
beads in dull barbaric patterns, and girt with a rope of jet 
and jade. Her slim white neck rose like a stem from 
the transparent neck line, and a beaded band about her 
forehead held the fluffy hair in place about her pretty dark 
little head. She wore long jade earrings which nearly 
touched the white shoulders, and gave her the air of an 
Egyptian princess. She was very gorgeous, and unusual 
even in the moonlight, and she knew it, yet this strange 
young man gave her one cold scrutinizing glance and 
turned away. 

'Til see you again in the morning, Mr. Severn,” he 
said, and wringing the minister’s hand silently, he went 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


155 


back across the lawn. The spell was broken and the min¬ 
ister knew it would be of no use to follow. Mark would 
say no more of his trouble tonight. 

It was so that Lynn, coming swiftly from her shadow, 
with troubled thoughts, came face to face with Mark: 

He stopped suddenly as if something had struck him. 

“ Oh, Mark! ” she breathed softly, and put out 
her hand. 

He made a swift motion away from her, and 
said quickly: 

“Don’t touch me, Marilyn,—I am—not— worthy!” 

Then quickly turning he sprang into his car and started 
the engine. 

The minister stood in the moonlight looking sadly after 
the wayward boy whom he had loved for years. 

Lynn came swiftly toward her father, scarcely seeing 
the two strangers ? She had a feeling that he needed com¬ 
forting. But the minister, not noticing her approach, 
had turned and was hurrying into the house by the 
side entrance. 

“ Come on girls, let’s have a little excitement,” cried 
Laurie Shafton gaily, “How about some music? There’s 
a piano in the house I see, let’s boom her up! ” 

He made a sudden dive and swooped an arm intimately 
about each girl’s waist, starting them violently toward the 
steps, forgetting the lame ankle that was supposed to make 
him somewhat helpless. 

The sudden unexpected action took Marilyn unaware, 
and before she could get her footing or do anything about 
it she caught a swift vision of a white face in the passing 
car. Mark had seen the whole thing! She drew back 
quickly, indignantly flinging the offending arm from her 
waist, and hurried after her father; but it was too late to 
undo the impression that Mark must have had. He had 
passed by. 


156 


THE CITY OF FERE 


Inside the door she stopped short, stamping her white 
shod foot with quick anger, her face white with fury, her 
eyes fairly blazing. If Laurie had seen her now he would 
scarcely have compared her to a saint. To think that on 
this day of trouble and perplexity this gay insolent 
stranger should dare to intrude and presume! And 
before Mark! 

But a low spoken word of her mother’s reached her 
from the dining-room, turning aside her anger: 

“ I hate to ask Lynn to take her into her room. Such 
a queer girl! It seems like a desecration! Lynn’s 
lovely room! ” 

“ She had no right to put herself upon us! ” said the 
father in troubled tones. “She is as far from our daughter 
as heaven is from the pit. Who is she, anyway? ” 

“ He merely introduced her as his friend Opal.” 

“ Is there nothing else we can do? ” 

“ We might give her our room, but it would take some 
time to put it in order for a guest. There would be a good 
many things to move—and it would be rather awkward in 
the morning, cots in the living-room. I suppose Lynn 
could come in with me and you sleep on a cot—! ” 

“ Yes, that’s exactly it! Do that. I don’t mind.” 

“I suppose we’ll have to,” sighed the mother, “ for I 
know Lynn would hate it having a stranger among her 
pretty intimate things—! ” 

Marilyn sprang up and burst into the dining-room: 

“ Mother! Did you think I was such a spoiled baby 
that I couldn’t be courteous to a stranger even if she was 
a detestable little vamp? You’re not to bother about it 
any more. She’ll come into my room with me of course. 
You didn’t expect me to sail through life without any 
sacrifices at all did you, Motherie? Suppose I had gone 
to Africa as I almost did last year? Don’t you fancy 
there’d have been some things harder than sharing my 
twin beds with a disagreeable stranger ? Besides, remem- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


157 


ber those angels unaware that the Bible talks about. I 
guess this is up to me, so put away your frets and come 
on in. It’s time we had worship and ended this day. But 
I guess those two self-imposed boarders of ours need a 
little religion first. Come on!” 

She dropped a kiss on each forehead lightly and fled 
into the other room. 

“ What a girl she is! ” said her father tenderly put¬ 
ting his hand gently on the spot she had kissed, “A great 
blessing in our home! Dear child! ” 

The mother said nothing, but her eyes were filled with 
a great content. 

Marilyn, throwing aside her hat and appearing in the 
front door called pleasantly to the two outside: 

“ Well, I’m ready for the music. You can come in 
when you wish.” 

They sauntered in presently, but Marilyn was already 
at the piano playing softly a bit from the Angel Chorus, 
a snatch of Handel’s Largo, a Chopin Nocturne, one of 
Mendelssohn’s songs without words. The two came in 
hilariously, the young man pretending to lean heavily on 
the girl, and finding much occasion to hold her hands, a 
performance to which she seemed to be not at all averse. 
They came and stood beside the piano. 

“ Now,” said Opal gaily, when Marilyn came to the 
end of another Nocturne: “ That’s enough gloom. Give 
us a little jazz and Laurie and I’ll dance awhile.” 

Marilyn let her hands fall with a soft crash on the keys 
and looked up. Then her face broke up into a smile, as if 
she had put aside an unpleasant thought and determined 
to be friendly: 

“ I’m sorry,” she said firmly, “ We don’t play jazz, my 
piano and I. I never learned to love it, and besides I’m 
tired. I’ve been playing all day you know. You will ex¬ 
cuse anything more I’m sure. And it’s getting late for 
Sabbath Valley. Did you have any plans for to-night? ” 


158 


THE CITY OF FIKE 


Opal stared, but Marilyn stared back pleasantly, and 
Laurie watched them both. 

“ Why, no, not exactly,” drawled Opal, “I thought 
Laurie would be hospitable enough to look me up a place. 
Where is your best hotel ? Is it possible at all ? ” 

“We haven’t a sign of a hotel,” said Marilyn smiling. 

“ Oh, horrors, nothing but a boarding house I sup¬ 
pose. Is it far away? ” 

“ Not even a boarding house.” 

“Oh, heavens! Well, where do you stop then? ” 

“ We don’t stop, we live,” said Marilyn smiling. “ I’m 
afraid the only thing you can do unless you decide to go 
back home tonight is to share my room with me,—I have 
twin beds you know and can make you quite comfortable. 
I often have a college friend to stay with me for a 
few weeks.” 

Opal stared round eyed. This was a college girl then, 
hidden away in a hole like this. Not even an extra spare 
room in the house! 

“ Oh my gracious! ” she responded bluntly, “ I’m not 
used to rooming with some one, but it’s very kind of you 
I’m sure.” 

Marilyn’s cheeks grew red and her eyes flashed but she 
whirled back to her keyboard and began to play, this time 
a sweet old hymn, and while she was playing and before 
the two strangers had thought of anything to say, Mr. 
Severn came in with the Book in his hand, followed by his 
wife, who drew a small rocker and sat down beside him. 

Marilyn paused and the minister opened his Bible and 
looked around on'them: 

“ I hope you’ll join us in our evening worship,” he 
said pleasantly to the two guests, and then while they still 
stared he began to read: “Let not your heart be troubled: 
ye believe in God, believe also in Me,” on through the 
beautiful chapter. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


159 


It was as Greek to the strangers, who heard and did 
not comprehend, and they looked about amazed on this 
little family with dreamy eyes all listening as if it meant 
great treasures to them. It was as if they saw the Severns 
for the first time and realized them as individuals, as a 
force in the world, something complete in itself, a family 
that was not doing the things they did, not having the 
things considered essential to life, nor trying to go after 
any of the things that life had to offer, but living their own 
beautiful lives in their own way without regard to the 
world, and actually enjoying it! That was the queer part 
about it. They were not dull nor bored! They were 
happy! They could get out from an environment like this 
if they choose, and they did not. They wanted to stay here. 
It was incredible! 

Laurie got out his cigarette case, selected a cigarette, 
got out his match box, selected a match, and all but lit it. 
Then somehow there seemed to be something incongruous 
about the action and he looked around. No one was see¬ 
ing him but Opal, and she was laughing at him. He 
flushed, put back the match and the cigarette, and folded 
his arms, trying to look at home in this strange new en¬ 
vironment. But the girl Marilyn’s eyes were far away as 
if she were drinking strange knowledge at a secret 
invisible source, and she seemed to have forgotten 
their presence. 

Then the family knelt. How odd! Knelt down, each 
where he had been sitting, and the minister began to talk 
to God. It did not impress the visitors as prayer. They 
involuntarily looked around to see to whom he was talking. 
Laurie reddened again and dropped his face into his hands. 
He had met Opal’s eyes and she was shaking with mirth, 
but somehow it affected him rawly. Suddenly he felt im¬ 
pelled to get to his knees. He seemed conspicuous reared 
up in a chair, and he slid noiselessly to the floor with 


160 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


a wrench of the hurt ankle that caused him to draw his 
brows in a frown. Opal, left alone in this room full 
of devout backs, grew suddenly grave. She felt almost 
afraid. She began to think of Saybrook Inn and the man 
lying there stark and dead! The man she had danced with 
but a week before! Dead! And for her! She cringed, and 
crouched down in her chair, till her beaded frock swept 
the polished floor in a little tinkley sound that seemed to 
echo all over the room, and before she knew it her fear 
of being alone had brought her to her knees. To be like 
the rest of the world—to be even more alike than anybody 
else in the world, that had always been her ambition. The 
motive of her life now brought her on her knees because 
others were there and she was afraid to sit above lest their 
God should come walking by and she should see Him and 
die! She did not know she put it that way to her soul, but 
she did, in the secret recesses of her inner dwelling. 

Before they had scarcely got to their knees and while 
that awkward hush was yet upon them the room was filled 
with the soft sound of singing, started by the minister, 
perhaps, or was it his wife? It was unaccompanied, 
“ Abide with me, Fast falls the eventide, the darkness 
deepens, Lord with me abide!” Even Laurie joined an 
erratic high tenor humming in on the last verse, and Opal 
shuddered as the words were sung, “ Hold thou thy cross 
before my closing eyes, Shine through the dark and point 
me to the skies.” Death was a horrible thing to her. She 
never wanted to be reminded of death. It was a long, long 
way off to her. She always drowned the thought in what¬ 
ever amusement was at hand. 

The song died away just in time or Opal might have 
screamed. She was easily wrought up. And then this 
strange anomoly of a girl, her young hostess, turned to her 
with a natural smile just as if nothing extraordinary had 
been going on and said: 

“Now, shall we say good-night and go upstairs? I 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


161 


know you must be tired after your long ride, and I know 
father'has had a hard day and would like to get the house 
settled for the night.” 

Opal arose with a wild idea of screaming and running 
away, but she caught the twinkle of Laurie’s eyes and 
knew he was laughing at her. So she relaxed into her 
habitual languor, and turning haughtily requested: 

“ Would you send your maid to the cyar for my 
bag, please?” 

Before anyone could respond the minister stepped to 
the door with a courteous “ Certainly,” and presently 
returned with a great blue leather affair with silver mount¬ 
ings, and himself carried it up the stairs. 

At the head of the stairs Marilyn met him, and put 
her head on his shoulder hiding her face in his coat, and 
murmured, “ Oh, Daddy! ” 

Severn smoothed her soft hair and murmured gently: 
“ There, there little girl! Pray! Pray! Our Father knows 
what’s best! ” but neither of them were referring to the 
matter of the unwelcome guests. 

Mrs. Severn was solicitous about asking if there was 
anything the guest would like, a glass of milk, or some 
fruit? And Opal declined curtly, made a little moue at 
Shafton and followed up the stairs. 

“Well!” she said rudely, as she entered the lovely 
room and stared around, “so this is your room!” Then she 
walked straight to the wall on the other side of the room 
where hung a framed photograph of Mark at twelve years 
old; Mark, with all the promise of his princely bearing 
already upon him. 

“ So this is the perfect icicle of a stunning young 
prince that was down on the lawn, is it ? I thought there 
was some reason for your frantic indifference to men. 
Is his name Billy or Mark ? Laurie said it was either Billy 
or Mark, he wasn’t sure which.” 


xrv 


Mark Carter and Billy as they rode silently down the 
little street toward Aunt Saxon’s cottage did not speak. 
They did not need to speak, these two. They had utmost 
confidence in one another, they were both troubled, and 
had no solution to offer for the difficulty. That was enough 
to seal any wise mouth. Only at the door as Billy climbed 
out Mark leaned toward him and said in a low growl: 

“You’re all right, Kid! You’re the best friend a 
man ever had! I appreciate what you did! ” 

“ Aw! ” squirmed Billy, pulling down his cap, “ That’s 
awright! See you t’morra’ Cart! S’long!” And 
Billy stalked slowly down the street remembering for the 
first time that he had his aunt yet to reckon with. 

With the man’s way of taking the bull by the horns 
he stormed in: 

“Aw, Gee! I’m tired! Now, I ’spose you’ll bawl me 
out fer a nour, an’ I couldn’t help it! You always jump 
on me worst when I ain’t to blame! ” 

Aunt Saxon turned her pink damp face toward the 
prodigal and broke into a plaintive little smile: 

“ Why, Willie, is that you ? I’m real glad you’ve come. 
I’ve kept supper waiting. We’ve got cold pressed chicken, 
and I stirred up some waffles. I thought you’d like some¬ 
thing hot.” 

Billy stared, but the reaction was too much. In order 
to keep the sudden tears back he roared out crossly: 

“ Well, I ain’t hungry. You hadn’t oughtta have 
waited. Pressed chicken, did ya say? Aw Gee! Just 
when I ain’t hungry! Ef that ain’t luck! An’ waffles! 
You oughtta known better! But bring ’em on. I’ll try 
what I can do,” and he flung himself down in his chair at 

m 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


163 


the table and rested a torn elbow on the clean cloth, and 
his weary head on a grimy hand. And then when she put 
the food before him, without even suggesting that he go 
first and wash, he became suddenly conscious of his dis¬ 
hevelled condition and went and washed his hands and face 
without being sent! Then he returned and did large jus¬ 
tice to the meal, his aunt eyeing furtively with watery 
smiles, and a sigh of relief now and then. At last she 
ventured a word by way of conversation: 

“ How is the man on the mountain ?” Billy looked up 
sharply, startled out of his usual stolidity with which he 
had learned from early youth to mask all interest or 
emotion from an officious and curious world. 

Miss Saxon smiled: 

“ Mrs. Carter told me how you and Mark went to help 
a man on the mountain. It was nice of you Billy.” 

“Oh! that!” said Billy scornfully, rallying to screen 
his agitation, “Oh, he's better. He got up and went home. 
Oh, it wasn't nothing. I just went and helped Cart. Sorry 
not to get back to Sunday School Saxy, but I didn’t think 
'twould take so long.” 

After that most unusual explanation, conversation 
languished, while Billy consumed the final waffle, after 
which he remarked gravely that if she didn’t mind he’d go 
to bed. He paused at the foot of the stair with a new 
thoughtfulness to ask if she wanted any wood brought 
in for morning, and she cried all the time she was washing 
up the few dishes at his consideration of her. Perhaps, 
as Mrs. Severn had told her, there was going to come a 
change and Billy was really growing more manly. 

Billy, as he made his brief preparation for bed told 
himself that he couldn’t sleep, he had too much to worry 
about and dope out, but his head had no more than touched 
the pillow till he was dead to the world. Whatever came 
on the morrow, whatever had happened the day before, 


164 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Billy had to sleep it out before he was fit to think. And 
Billy slept. 

But up the street in the Carter house a light burned 
late in Mark’s window, and Mark himself, his mother 
soothed and comforted and sent to sleep, sat up in his big 
leather chair that his mother had given him on the last 
birthday before he left home,and stared at the wall opposite 
where hung the picture of a little girl in a white dress with 
floating hair and starry eyes. In his face there grew a 
yearning and a hopelessness that was beyond anything to 
describe. It was like a face that is suffering pain of fire 
and studying to be brave, yet burns and suffers and is not 
consumed. That was the look in Mark Carter’s eyes and 
around his finely chiseled lips. Once, when he was in that 
mood travelling on a railway carriage, a woman across the 
aisle had called her husband’s attention to him. “ Look 
at that man!” she said, “He looks like a lost soul! ” 

For a long time he sat and stared at the picture, with¬ 
out a motion of his body, or without even the flicker of an 
eyelash, as if he were set there to see the panorama of 
his thoughts pass before him and see them through to the 
bitter end. His eyes were deep and gray. In boyhood 
they had held a wistful expectation of enchanting things 
and doing great deeds of valor. They were eyes that 
dream, and believe, and are happy even suffering, so 
faith remain and love be not denied. But faith had been 
struck a deadly blow in these eyes now, and love had been 
cast away. The eyes looked old'and tired and unbelieving, 
yet still searching, searching, though seeing dimly, and yet 
more dim every day, searching for the dreams of child¬ 
hood and knowing they would never come again. Feeling 
sure that they might not come again because he had shut 
the door against them with his own hand, and by his own 
act cut the bridge on which they might have crossed from 
heaven to him. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


165 


A chastened face, humbled by suffering when alone, 
but proud and unyielding still before others. Mark Carter 
looking over his past knew just where he had started down 
this road of pain, just where he had made the first mistake, 
sinned the first sin, chosen pride instead of humility, the 
devil instead of God. And to-night Mark Carter sat and 
faced the immediate future and saw what was before him. 
As if a painted map lay out there on the wall before him, 
he saw the fire through which he must pass, and the way 
it would scorch the faces of those he loved, and his soul 
cried out in anguish at the the sight. Back, back over his 
past life he tramped again and again. Days when he and 
Lynn and her father and mother had gone off on little 
excursions, with a lunch and a dog and a book, and all the 
world of nature as their playground. A little thought, a 
trifling word that had been spoken, some bit of beauty at 
which they looked, an ant they watched struggling with 
a crumb too heavy for it, a cluster of golden leaves or the 
scarlet berries of the squaw vine among the moss. How 
the memories made his heart ache as he thought them out 
of the past. 

And the books they had read aloud, sometimes the 
minister, sometimes his wife doing the reading, but 
always he was counted into the little circle as if they were 
a family. He had come to look upon them as his second 
father and mother. His own father he had never known. 

His eyes sought the bookcase near at hand. There 
they were, some of them birthday gifts and Christmases, 
and he had liked nothing better than a new book which he 
always carried over to be read in the company. Oh, those 
years! How the books marked their going! Even way 
back in his little boyhood! “ Hans Brinker or the Silver 
Skates.” He touched its worn blue back and silver letters 
scarcely discernible. “ The Call of the Wild.” How he 
had thrilled to the sorrows of that dog! And how many 



166 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


life lessons had been wrapped up in the creature’s ex- 
perience! How had he drifted so far away from it all? 
How could he have done it ? No one had pushed him, he 
had gone himself. He knew the very moment when after 
days of agony he had made the awful decision, scarcely 
believing himself that he meant to stick by it; hoping 
against hope that some great miracle would come to pass 
that should change it all and put him back where he longed 
to be! How he had prayed and prayed in his childish faith 
and agony for the miracle, and —it had not come! God 
had gone back on him. He had not kept His promises! 
And then he had deliberately given up his faith. He could 
think back over all the days and weeks that led up to this. 
Just after the time when he had been so happy; had felt 
that he was growing up, and understanding so many of the 
great problems of life. The future looked rosy before 
him, because he felt that he was beginning to grasp wisdom 
and the sweetness of things. How little he had known of 
his own foolishness and sinfulness! 

It was just after they had finished reading and dis¬ 
cussing Dante’s Vision. What a wonderful man Mr. 
Severn was that he had taken two children and guided 
them through that beautiful, fearful, wonderful story! 
How it had impressed him then, and stayed with him all 
these awful months and days since he had trodden the 
same fiery way—! 

He reached his hand out for the book, bound in dull 
blue cloth, the symbol of its serious import. He had not 
opened the book since they finished it and Mr. Severn had 
handed it over to him and told him to keep it, as he had 
another copy. He opened the book as if it had been the 
coffin of his beloved, and there between the dusty pages 
lay a bit of blue ribbon, creased with the pages, and jag¬ 
ged on the edges because it had been cut with a jack knife. 
And lying smooth upon it in a golden curve a wisp of a 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


167 


yellow curl, just a section of one of Marilyn’s, the day she 
put her hair up, and did away with the curls! He had cut the 
ribbon from the end of a great bow that held the curls at the 
back of her head, and then he had laughingly insisted on 
a piece of the curl, and they had made a great time col¬ 
lecting the right amount of hair, for Marilyn insisted it 
must not make a rough spot for her to brush. Then he had 
laid it in the book, the finished book, and shut it away 
carefully, and gone home, and the next day,—the very next 
day, the thing had happened! 

He turned the leaves sadly: 


“ In midway of this our mortal life, 
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray 
Gone from the path direct:—” 


It startled him, so well it fitted with his mood. It was 
himself, and yet he could remember well how he had felt 
for the writer when he heard it first. Terrible to sit here 
to-night and know it was himself all the time the tale had 
been about! He turned a page or two and out from the 
text there stood a line: 


“All hope abandon ye who enter here.” 

That was the matter with himself. He had abandoned 
all hope. Over the leaf his eye ran down the page: 

“This miserable fate 

Suffer the wretched souls of those who lived 
Without praise or blame, with that ill band 
Of angels mixed, who nor rebellious proved 
Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves 
Were only.” 


How well he remembered the minister’s little com¬ 
ments as he read, How the sermons had impressed them- 





168 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


selves upon his heart as he listened, and yet here he was, 
himself, in hell! He turned over the pages again quickly 
unable to get away from the picture that grew in his mind, 
the vermilion towers and minarets, the crags and peaks, 
the “ little brook, whose crimson’d wave, yet lifts my hair 
with horror,” he could see it all as if he had lived there 
many years. Strange he had not thought before of the 
likeness of his life to this. He read again: 

“O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fire 
Alive art passing,—” 

Yes, that was it. A City of Fire. He dwelt in a City 
of Fire! Hell! There was a hell on earth to-day and 
mortals entered it and dwelt there. He lived in that City of 
Fire continually now. He expected to live there forever. He 
had sinned against God and his better self, and had begun 
his eternal life on earth. It was too late ever to turn back. 
“ All Hope abandon, ye who enter here.” He had read it 
and defied it. He had entered knowing what he was about, 
and thinking, poor fool that he was, that he was doing a 
wise and noble thing for the sake of another. 

Over in the little parsonage, the white souled girl was 
walking in an earthly heaven. Ah! There was nothing, 
nothing they had in common now any more. She lived 
in the City of Hope and he in the City of Fire. 

He flung out the book from him and dropped his face 
into his hands crying softly under his breath, “ Oh, Lynn, 
Lynn—Marilyn! ” 


XV 


For one instant Lynn stood against the closed door, 
flaming with anger, her eyes flashing fire as they well knew 
how to flash at times. Then suddenly her lips set close 
in a fine control the fire died out of her eyes, she drew a 
deep breath, and a quick whimsical smile lighted up her 
face, which nevertheless did not look in the least like 
one subdued: 

“ You know I could get very angry at that if I chose 
and we’d have all kinds of a disagreeable time, but I think 
it would be a little pleasanter for us both if you would cut 
that out, don’t you? ” She said it in a cool little voice that 
sounded like one in entire command of the situation, and 
Opal turned around and stared at her admiringly. Then 
she laughed one of her wild silvery laughs that made them 
say she had a lute-like voice, and sauntered over toward 
her hostess: 

“ You certainly are a queer girl! ” she commented, “ I 
suppose it would be better to be friends, inasmuch as we’re 
to be roommates. Will you smoke with me ? ” and out 
from the depths of a beaded affair that was a part of her 
frock and yet looked more like a bag than a pocket, she 
drew forth a gold cigarette case and held it out. 

Marilyn controlled the growing contempt in her face 
and answered with spirit: 

“No, I don’t smoke. And you won’t smoke either— 
not in here! I’m sorry to seem inhospitable, but we don’t 
do things like that around here, and if you have to smoke 
you’ll have to go out doors.” 

“ Oh, really? ” Opal arched her already permanently 
arched, plucked brows and laughed again. “ Well, you 
certainly have lots of pep. I believe I’m going to like you. 
Let’s sit down and you tell me about yourself? ” 

169 


170 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ Why don’t you tell me about yourself ?” hedged 
Marilyn relaxing into a chair and leaving the deep leather 
one for her guest, “ I’m really a very simple affair, just a 
country girl very glad to get home after four years at 
college. There’s nothing complex and nothing to tell I 
assure you.” 

“ You’re entirely too sophisticated for all that sim¬ 
plicity,” declared Opal, “ I suppose it’s college that has 
given you so much poise. But why aren’t you impressed 
with Laurie ? Simply everybody is impressed with Laurie! 
I don’t believe you even know who he is! ” 

Lynn laughed: 

“ How should I ? And what difference would it make 
any way ? As for being impressed, he gave me the impres¬ 
sion of a very badly spoiled boy out trying to have his own 
way, and making a great fuss because he couldn’t get it.” 

“ And you didn’t know that his father is William J. 
Shafton, the multi-millionaire?” Opal brought the 
words out like little sharp points that seemed to glitter 
affluently as she spoke them. 

“ No,” said Marilyn, “ I didn’t know. But it doesn’t 
matter. We hadn’t anything better to offer him than we’ve 
given, and I don’t know why I should have been impressed 
by that. A man is what he is, isn’t he? Not what his 
father is. He isn’t your— brother —is he ? I was over at 
the church when you arrived and didn’t hear the introduc¬ 
tions. I didn’t even get your name.” 

Opal laughed uproariously as if the subject were over¬ 
whelmingly amusing: 

“ No, she said recovering, “ I’m just Opal. Fire Opal 
they call me sometimes, and Opalescence. That’s Laurie’s 
name for me, although lately he’s taken to calling me 
Effervescence. No, he’s not my brother little Simple 
Lady, he’s just one of my friends. Now don’t look 
shocked. I’m a naughty married lady run off on a spree 
for a little fun.” Marilyn regarded her thoughtfully: 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


171 


“Now stop looking at me with those solemn eyes! 
Tell me what you were thinking about me! I’d lots rather 
hear it. It would be something original, I’m sure. You’re 
nothing if not original! ” 

“ I was just wondering why,” said Marilyn still 
thoughtfully. 

“ Why what?” 

“ Why. Why you did it. Why you wanted to be that 
kind of a married woman when the real kind is so much 
more beautiful and satisfactory.” 

“ What do you know about it ? ” blazed Opal, “ You’ve 
never been married, have you ? ” 

“ My mother has had such a wonderful life with my 
father—and my father with my mother! ” 

Opal stared at her amazed for an instant, then shrug¬ 
ged her shoulders lightly: 

“Oh, that!” she said and laughed disagreeably, “If 
one wants to be a saint, perhaps, but there aren’t many 
w^n-saints I can tell you! You haven’t seen my husband 
or you wouldn’t talk like that! Imagine living a saintly 
life with Ed Verrons! But my dear, wait till you’re mar¬ 
ried ! You won’t talk that rubbish any more!” 

“ I shall never marry unless I can,” said Lynn decid¬ 
edly, “ It would be terrible to marry some one I could not 
love and trust! ” 

“Oh, love!” said Opal contemptuously, “You can 
love any one you want to for a little while. Love doesn’t 
last. It’s just a play you soon get tired to death of. But 
if that’s the way you feel don’t pin your trust and your 
love as you call it to that princely icicle we saw down on 
the lawn. He’s seen more of the world than you know. I 
saw it in his eyes. There! Now don’t set your eyes to 
blazing again. I won’t mention him any more to-night. 
And don’t worry about me, I’m going to be good and run 
back to-morrow morning in time to meet my dear old 


172 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


hubby in the evening when he gets back from a week’s 
fishing in the Adirondacks, and he’ll never guess what a 
frolic I’ve had. But you certainly do amuse me with your 
indifference. Wait till Laurie gets in some of his work 
on you. I can see he’s crazy already about you, and if I 
don’t decide to carry him off with me in the morning I’ll 
miss my guess if he doesn’t show you how altogether 
charming the son of William J. Shafton can be. He never 
failed to have a girl fall for him yet, not one that he 
went after, and he’s been after a good many girls I can 
tell you.” 

Lynn arose suddenly, her chin a bit high, a light of 
determination in her eyes. She felt herself growing 
angry again: 

“ Come and look at my view of the moon on the val¬ 
ley,” she said suddenly, pulling aside the soft scrim cur¬ 
tain and letting in a flood of moonlight. “ Here, I’ll turn 
out the light so you can see better. Isn’t that beautiful? ” 

She switched off the lights and the stranger drew near 
apathetically, gazing out into the beauty of the moonlight 
as it touched the houses half hidden in the trees and vines, 
and flooded the Valley stretching far away to the feet of 
the tall dark mountains. 

“ I hate mountains! ” shuddered Opal, “ They make 
me afraid! I almost ran over a precipice when I was 
coming here yesterday. If I have to go back that same 
way I shall take Laurie, or if he won’t go I’ll cajole that 
stunning prince of yours if you don’t mind. I loathe being 
alone. That’s why I ran down here to see Laurie! ” 

But Lynn had switched on the lights and turned from 
the window. Her face was cold and her voice hard: 

“ Suppose we go to bed,” she said, “ will you have the 
bed next the window or the door? And what shall I get 
for you? Have you everything? See, here is the bath¬ 
room. Father and mother had it built for me for my 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


173 


birthday. And the furniture is some of mother’s grand¬ 
mother’s. They had it done over for me.” 

“It’s really a dandy room! ” said Opal admiringly, “ I 
hadn’t expected to find anything like this,” she added with¬ 
out seeming to know she was patronizing. “ You are the 
only child, aren’t you? Your father and mother just dote 
on you too. That must be nice. We had a whole houseful 
at home, three girls and two boys, and after father lost 
his money and had to go to a sanitarium we had frightful 
times, never any money to buy anything, the girls always 
fighting over who should have silk stockings, and mother 
crying every night when we learned to smoke. Of course 
mother was old fashioned. I hated to have her weeping 
around all the time, but all our set smoked and what could 
I do? So I just took the first good chance to get married 
and got out of it all. And Ed isn’t so bad. Lots of men 
are worse. And he gives me all the money I want. One 
thing the girls don’t have to fight over silk stockings and 
silk petticoats any more ? I send them all they want. And 
I manage to get my good times in now and then too. But 
tell me, what in the world do you do in this sleepy little 
town? Don’t you get bored to death? I should think 
you’d get your father to move to the city. There must be 
plenty of churches where a good looking minister like 
your father could get a much bigger salary than out in the 
country like this. When I get back to New York I’ll send 
for you to visit me and show you a real good time. I 
suppose you’ve never been to cabarets and eaten theatre 
suppers, and seen a real New York good time. Why, last 
winter I had an affair that was talked of in the papers for 
days. I had the whole lower floor decorated as a wood you 
know, with real trees set up, and mossy banks, and a brook 
running through it all. It took days for the plumbers to 
get the fittings in, and then they put stones in the bottom, 
and gold fish, and planted violets on the banks and all 


174 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


kinds of ferns and lilies of the valley, everywhere there 
were flowers blossoming so the guests could pick as many 
as they wanted. The stream was deep enough to float little 
canoes, and they stopped in grottoes for champagne, and 
when they came to a shallow place they had to get out and 
take off their shoes and stockings and wade in the brook. 
On the opposite bank a maid was waiting with towels. 
The ladies sat down on the bank and their escorts had to 
wipe their feet and help them on with their shoes and 
stockings again, and you ought to have heard the shouts 
of laughter! It certainly was a great time! Upstairs in 
the ball room we had garden walks all about, with all kinds 
of flowers growing, and real birds flying around, and the 
walls were simply covered with American beauty roses 
and wonderful climbers, in such bowers that the air was 
heavy with perfume. The flowers alone cost thousands— 
What’s the matter? Did you hear something fall? You 
startled me, jumping up like that! You’re nervous aren’t 
you? Don’t you think music makes people nervous?” 

Marilyn smiled pathetically, and dropped back to the 
edge of her bed: 

“ Pardon me,” she said, “ I was just in one of my 
tempers again. I get them a lot but I’m trying to control 
them. I happened to think of the little babies I saw in 
the tenement districts when I was in New York last. Did 
you ever go there? They wear one little garment, and 
totter around in the cold street trying to play, with no 
stockings, and shoes out at the toes. Sometimes they 
haven’t enough to eat, and their mothers are so wretchedly 
poor and sorrowful—!” 

“Mercy!” shuddered Opal, “How morbid you are! 
What ever did you go to a place like that for? I always 
keep as far away from unpleasant things as I can. I cross 
the street if I see a blind beggar ahead. I just loathe 
misery! But however did you happen to think of 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


175 


them when I was telling you about my beautiful ball 
room decorations ? ” 

Lynn twinkled: 

‘‘I guess you wouldn’t understand me,” she said slowly, 
“ but I was thinking of all the good those thousands of 
dollars would have done if they had been spent on babies 
and not on flowers.” 

“ Gracious! ” said Opal. “ I hate babies! Ed is crazy 
about them, and would like to have the house full, but I 
gave him to understand what I thought about that before 
we were married.” 

“ I love babies,” said Marilyn. “ They want me to go 
this Fall and do some work in that settlement, and I’m con¬ 
sidering it. If it only weren’t for leaving father and 
mother again—but I do love the babies and the little chil¬ 
dren. I want to gather them all and do so many things for 
them. You know they are all God’s babies, and it seems 
pitiful for them to have to be in such a dreadful world as 
some of them have! ” 

“ Oh, God! ” shuddered Opal quite openly now, 
“ Don’t talk about God! I hate God! He’s just killed one 
of my best men friends! I wish you wouldn’t talk 
about God!” 

Marilyn looked at her sadly, contemplatively, and then 
twitched her mouth into a little smile: 

“ We’re not getting on very well, are we ? I don’t like 
your costly entertainments, and you don’t like my best 
Friend! I’m sorry. I must seem a little prude to you I’m 
afraid, but really, God is not what you think. You 
wouldn’t hate Him, you would love Him,—if you 
knew Him.” 

“ Fancy knowing God —as you would your other 
friends! How dreadful! Let’s go to bed! ” 

Opal began to get out her lovely brushes and toilet 
paraphernalia and Lynn let down her wonderful golden 




176 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


mane and began to brush it, looking exquisite in a little 
blue dimity kimona delicately edged with’ Valenciennes. 
Opal made Herself radiant in a rose-chiffon and old-point 
negligee and went through numerous gyrations relating 
to the complexion, complaining meanwhile of the lack of 
a maid. 

But after the lights were out, and Lynn kneeling 
silently by her bed in the moonlight, Opal lay on the other 
bed and watched her wonderingly, and when a few minutes 
later, Marilyn rose softly and crept into bed as quietly as 
possible lest she disturb her guest, Opal spoke: 

“ I wonder what you would do if a man—the man you 
liked best in all the world,—had got killed doing something 
to please you. It makes you go crazy when you think of 
it—someone you’ve danced with lying dead that way all 
alone. I wonder what you’d do! ” 

Lynn brought her mind back from her own sorrows 
and prayers with a jerk to the problem of this strange 
guest. She did not answer for a moment, then she said 
very slowly: 

“ I think—I don’t know—but I think I should go right 
to God and ask Him what to do. I think nobody else 
could show what ought to be done. There wouldn’t be 
anything else to do! ” 

“ Oh, murder! ” said Opal turning over in bed quickly, 
and hiding her face in the pillow, and there was in the 
end of her breath just the suggestion of a shriek of fear. 

But far, far into the night Marilyn lay on her sleepless 
pillow, her heart crying out to God: “ Oh, save Mark! 

Take care of Mark! Show him the way back again!” 

Afar in the great city a message stole on a wire through 
the night, and presently the great presses were hot with 
its import, printing thousands and thousands of extras for 
early morning consumption, with headlines in enormous 
letters across the front page: 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


177 


“LAURENCE SHAFTON, SON OF WILLIAM 
J. SHAFTON, KIDNAPPED! ” 

“ Mrs Shafton is lying in nervous collapse as the result 
of threats from kidnappers who boldly called her up on 
the phone and demanded a king’s ransom, threatening 
death to the son if the plot was revealed before ten o’clock 
this morning. The faithful mother gathered her treasures 
which included the famous Shafton Emeralds, and a string 
of pearls worth a hundred thousand dollars, and let them 
down from her window as directed, and then fainted, 
knowing nothing more till her maid hearing her fall, 
rushed into the room and found her unconscious. When 
roused she became hysterical and told what had happened. 
Then remembering the threat of death for telling ahead of 
time she became crazy with grief, and it was almost im¬ 
possible to soothe her. The maid called her family 
physician,explaining all she knew, and the matter was at 
once put into the hands of capable detectives who are 
doing all they know how to locate the missing son, who 
has been gone only since Saturday evening; and also to 
find the missing jewels and other property, and it is hoped 
that before evening the young man will be found.” 

Meantime, Laurence Shafton slept soundly and late in 
the minister’s study, and knew nothing of the turmoil and 
sorrow of his doting family. 


12 




XVI 


Though Mark had scarcely slept at all the night before 
he was on hand long before the city-bred youth was awake, 
taking apart the big machine that stood in front of the 
parsonage. Like a skillful physician he tested its various 
valves and compartments, went, over its engine carefully, 
and came at last to the seat of the trouble which the min¬ 
ister had diagnosed the night before. 

Lynn with dark circles under her eyes had wakened 
early and slipped down to the kitchen to help her mother 
and the little maid of all work who lived down the street 
and was a member of the Sunday School and an important 
part of the family. It was Naomi who discovered the 
young mechanic at the front door. There was not much 
that Naomi did not see. She announced his presence to 
Marilyn as she was filling the salt cellars for breakfast. 
Marilyn looked up startled, and met her mother's eyes full 
of comfort and reassurance. Somehow when Mark came 
quietly about in that helpful way of his it was impossible 
not to have the old confidence in him, the old assurance 
that all would soon be right, the old explanation that Mark 
was always doing something quietly for others and never 
taking care for himself. Marilyn let her lips relax into a 
smile and went about less heavy of heart. Surely, surely, 
somehow, Mark would clear himself of these awful things 
that were being said about him. Surely the day would 
bring forth a revelation. And Mark’s action last night 
when he refused to speak with her, refused to let her touch 
his arm, and called himself unworthy was all for her sake; 
all because he did not want her name sullied with a breath 
of the scandal that belonged to him. Mark would be that 

178 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


179 


way. He would protect her always, even though he did 
not belong to her, even though he were not her friend. 

She was almost cheerful again, when at last the dai¬ 
rying guests appeared for a late breakfast. Mark was still 
working at the car, filing something with long steady 
grinding noises. She had seen him twice from the win- 
♦ dow, but she did not venture out. Mark had not wished 
her to speak to him, she would not go against his wish,— 
at least not now—not until the guests were out of the way. 
That awful girl should have no further opportunity to say 
things to her about Mark. She would keep out of his way 
until they were gone. Oh, pray that the car would be 
fixed and they pass on their way at once! Later, if there 
were opportunity, she would find a way to tell Mark that 
he should not refuse her friendship. What was friendship 
if it could not stand the strain of falsehood and gossip, 
and even scandal if necessary. She was not ashamed to 
let Mark know she would be his friend forever. There 
was nothing unmaidenly in that. Mark would under¬ 
stand her. Mark had always understood her. And so she 
cheered her heavy heart through the breakfast hour, and 
the foolish jesting of the two that sounded to her anxious 
ears, in the language of scripture, like the “ crackling 
of thorns under a pot.” 

But at last they finished the breakfast and shoved their 
chairs back to go and look at the car. Mr. Severn and his 
wife had eaten long ago and gone about their early morn¬ 
ing duties, and it had been Marilyn’s duty to do the honors 
for the guests, so she drew a sign of relief, and, evading 
Laurie’s proffered arm slid into the pantry and let them 
go alone. 

But when she glanced through the dining-room win¬ 
dow a few minutes later as she passed removing the dishes 
from the table, she saw Mark upon his knees beside the 


180 


THE CITY OF FIKE 


car, looking up with his winning smile and talking to Opal, 
who stood close beside him all attention, with her little boy 
attitude, and a wide childlike look in her big effective eyes. 
Something big and terrible seemed to seize Marilyn’s heart 
with a vise-like grip, and be choking her breath in her 
throat. She turned quickly, gathered up her pile of dishes 
and hurried into the pantry, her face white and set, and her 
eyes stinging with proud unshed tears. 

A few minutes later, dressed in brown riding clothes 
exquisitely tailored, and a soft brown felt hat, she might 
have been seen hurrying through the back fence, if any¬ 
body had been looking that way, across the Joneses’ lot 
to the little green stable that housed a riding horse that 
was hers to ride whenever she chose. She had left word 
with Naomi that she was going to Economy and would be 
back in time for lunch, and she hoped in her heart that 
when she returned both of their guests would have de¬ 
parted ? It was perhaps a bit shabby of her to leave it all 
on her mother this way, but mother would understand, 
and very likely be glad. 

So Lynn mounted her little brown horse and rode by a 
circuitous way, across the creek, and out around the town 
to avoid passing her own home, and was presently on her 
way up to the crossroads down which Laurie Shafton had 
come in the dark midnight. 

As she crossed the Highway, she noticed the Detour, 
and paused an instant to study the peculiar sign, and the 
partly cleared way around. And while she stood won¬ 
dering a car came swiftly up from the Economy way past 
the Blue Duck Tavern. The driver bowed and smiled and 
she perceived it was the Chief of Police from Economy, a 
former resident of Sabbath Valley, and very much re¬ 
spected in the community, and with him in the front seat 
was another uniformed policeman! 


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181 


With a sudden constriction at her heart Marilyn bowed 
and rode on. Was he going to Sabbath Valley? Was 
there truth in the rumor that Mark was in trouble? She 
looked back to see if he had turned down the Highway, 
but he halted the car with its nose pointed Sabbath 
Valley ward and got out to examine the Detour on the 
Highway. She rode slowly and turned around several 
times, but as long as she was in sight his car remained 
standing pointed toward the Valley. 




XVII 


Billy awoke to the light of day with the sound of a 
strange car going by. The road through Sabbath Valley 
was not much frequented, and Billy knew every car that 
usually travelled that way. They were mostly Economy 
and Monopoly people, and as there happened to be a 
mountain trolley between the two towns higher up making 
a circuit to touch at Brooktown, people seldom came this 
way. Therefore at the unusual sound Billy was on the alert 
at once. One movement brought him upright with his feet 
upon the floor blinking toward his window, a second car¬ 
ried him to shelter behind the curtain where he could see 
the stranger go by. 

Billy had reduced the science of dressing to a fine 
degree. He could climb into the limited number of sum¬ 
mer garments in less time than any boy in the community, 
and when he saw that the car had halted just above the 
house and that the driver was interviewing Jim Rafferty, 
he reached for a handful of garments, and began to climb, 
keeping one eye out the window for developments. Was 
that or was it not the Chief’s car out there? If it was 
what did it want ? 

Billy was in socks, trousers and shirt by the time the 
car began to puff again for starting, and he stove his feet 
into his old shoes and dove down stairs three steps at a 
stride and out the door where he suddenly became a casual 
observer of the day. 

“ Hullo, Billy! That you ? ” accosted the Chief driving 
slowly down the street, “ Say, Billy, you haven’t seen 
Mark Carter, have you? They said he had gone down to 
the blacksmith’s to get something fixed for a car. I 
thought perhaps you’d seen him go by.” 

Billy shook his head lazily: 

182 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


183 


“ Nope,” he said, “ I’ve been busy this morning. He 
mighta gone by.” 

“Well I’ll just drive down and see! ” The car started 
on and turned into the Lane that led to the black¬ 
smith shop. 

Billy dove into the house, made short work of his 
ablutions, gave his hair a brief lick with the brush, col¬ 
lected his cap and sweater, bolted the plate of breakfast 
Aunt Saxon had left on the back of the stove when she 
went away for her regular Monday’s wash, and was ready 
behind the lilac bush with old trusty, down on his knees 
oiling her a bit, when the Chief drove back with Mark 
Carter in the back seat looking strangely white and 
haughty, but talking affably with the Chief. 

His heart sank. Somehow he knew something was 
wrong with Mark. Mark was in his old clothes with sev¬ 
eral pieces of iron in his hand as if he hadn’t taken time to 
lay them down. Billy remained in hiding and watched 
while the Chief’s car stopped at Carter’s and Mark got out. 
The car waited several minutes, and then Mark came out 
with his good clothes on and his best hat, and got into the 
car and they drove off, Mark looking stern and white. 
Billy shot out from his hiding and mounting his steed flew 
down the road, keeping well behind the maples and hedges, 
and when the Chief’s car stopped in front of the parsonage 
he dismounted and stepped inside Joneses’ drive to listen. 
Mark got out, sprang up the steps, touched the bell, and 
said to someone who appeared at the door, “ Mr. Shafton, 
I’m sorry, but I’ll not be able to get those bearings fixed up 
to-day. The blacksmith doesn’t seem to have anything 
that will do. I find I have to go over to Economy on busi¬ 
ness, and I’ll look around there and see if anybody has 
any. I expect to be back by twelve o’clock, and will you 
tell the lady that I will be ready to start at half-past if that 
will suit her. I am sure we shall have plenty of time to get 


184 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


her to Beechwood by five or sooner. If anything occurs 
to keep me from going I’ll telephone you in an hour, so 
that she can make other arrangements. Thank you, Mr. 
Shafton. Sorry I couldn’t fix you up right away, but I’ll 
look after the lady for you.” Mark hurried back to the 
car again and they drove off. 

Billy escorted the Department of Justice distantly, as 
far as the Crossing at the Highway, from which eminence 
he watched until he saw that they stopped at the Blue 
Duck Tavern for a few minutes, after which they went on 
toward Economy; then he inspected the recent clearing of 
his detour, obviously by the Chief, and hurried down the 
Highway toward the railroad Crossing at Pleasant View. 
It was almost train time, and he had a hunch that there 
might be something interesting around that hidden tele¬ 
phone. If he only had had more time he might have 
arranged to tap the wire and listen in without having to 
go so near, but he must do the best he could. 

When he reached a point on the Highway where 
Pleasant View station was easily discernible he dis¬ 
mounted, parked his wheel among the huckleberries, and 
slid into the green of the Valley. Stealing cautiously to 
the scene of the Saturday night hold-up he finally suc¬ 
ceeded in locating the hidden telephone, and creeping into 
a well screened spot not far away arranged himself com¬ 
fortably to wait till the trains came. He argued that Pat 
would likely come down to report or get orders about the 
same time as before, and so in the stillness of the morning 
he lay on the ground and waited. He could hear a song 
sparrow high up on the telegraph wire, sing out its wild 
sweet lonely strain: Sweet—sweetsweetsweet—sweetsweet 
—sweetsweet—! and a hum of bees in the wild grape 
that trailed over the sassafras trees. Beside him a little 
wood spider stole noiselessly on her busy way. But his 
heart was heavy with new burdens and he could not take 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


185 


his usual rhapsodic joy in the things of Nature. What 
was happening to Mark and what could he do about it? 
Perhaps Mark would have been better off if he had left 
him in the old house on Stark’s mountain. The chief 
couldn’t have found him then and the kidnappers would 
have kept him safe for a good many days till they got 
some money. But there wouldn’t have been any money! 
For Mark wasn’t the right man! And the kidnappers 
would have found it out pretty soon and what would they 
have done to Mark ? Killed him perhaps so they wouldn’t 
get into any more trouble! There was no telling! And 
time would have gone on and nobody would have known 
what had become of Mark. And the murder trial—if it 
was really a murder—would come off and they couldn’t 
find Mark, and of course they would think Mark had 
killed the man and then run away. And Mark would never 
be able to come home again! No, he was glad Mark was 
out and safe and free from dope. At least Mark would 
know what to do to save himself. Or would he ? Billy sud¬ 
denly had his doubts. Would Mark take care of himself, 
just himself, or not? Mark was always looking after 
other people, but he had somehow always let people say 
and do what they would with him. Aw gee! Now Mark 
wouldn’t let them locate a thing like a murder on him, 
would he? And there was Miss Lynn! And Mark’s 
mother! Mark oughtta think of them. Well, maybe he 
wouldn’t realize how much they did care. Billy had a sud¬ 
den revelation that maybe that was half the matter, Mark 
didn’t know how much any of them cared. Back in his 
mind there was an uncomfortable memory of Aunt 
Saxon’s pink damp features and anxious eyes and a pos¬ 
sible application of the same principle to his own life, as in 
the case of Judas. But he wasn’t considering himself now. 
There might come a time when he would have to change 
his tactics with regard to Aunt Saxon somewhat. She 


186 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


certainly had been a good sport last night. But this wasn’t 
the time to consider that. He had a great deal more im¬ 
portant matters to think of now. He had to find out how 
he could make it perfectly plain to the world that Mark 
Carter had not shot a man after twelve o’clock Saturday 
night at the Blue Duck Tavern. And as yet he didn’t see 
any way without incriminating himself as a kidnapper. 
This cut deep because in the strict sense of the word he 
was not a kidnapper, because he hadn’t meant to be a 
kidnapper. He had only meant to play a joke on the kid¬ 
nappers, and at worst his only really intended fault had 
been the putting up of that detour on the Highway. But 
he had an uncomfortable conviction that he wouldn’t be 
able to make the Chief and the Constable, and some of 
those people over at Economy Court House see it that way. 
As matters stood he was safe if he kept his mouth shut. 
Nobody knew but Mark, and he didn’t know the details. 
Besides, Mark would never tell. Mark would even go to 
trial for murder before he would let himself out by telling 
on Billy, Billy knew that as well as he knew that the old 
mountain on whose feet he lay stretched now would stand 
up there for ages and always keep his secret for him. Mark 
was that way. That was why it made it worse for Billy. 
Judas again! Billy was surprised to find how much Judas- 
blood there seemed to be in him. He lay there and despised 
himself without being able to help himself out or think of 
anything he could do. And then quite suddenly as he was 
going over the whole circumstance from the time he first 
listened to Pat’s message into the moss of the mountain, 
until now, the name Shafton came to him. Laurence 
Shafton. Shafton, son of William J., of Gates and 
Shafton. Those were the words the telephone had 
squeaked out quite plainly. And Shafton. Mr. 
Shafton. That was the name Mark had called the guy 
with the car at the parsonage. Mr. Shafton. The same 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


187 


guy, of course. Bah! What a mess he had made of it all. 
Got Mark kidnapped, landed that sissy-guy on the Severns 
for no knowing how long, and perhaps helped to tangle 
Mark up in a murder case. Aw Gee! There’s the train! 
What could he do? That rich guy! Well, there wasn’t 
anything to that. He would get out as soon as Mark got 
his car fixed up and never know he had been kidnapped. 
And what was he, Billy, waiting here for anyway? Just 
a chance! Just to see whether Pat and Sam had found out 
yet that their quarry had vanished. Just to wonder what 
had become of Link and Shorty. 

The trains came and went, and the hush settled down 
once more at the station. From where he lay, hidden 
under a ledge, with a thick growth of laurel and sumac 
between him and the world, Billy could not see the station 
platform, and had no means of telling whether Pat was 
about or not. 

He had lain still a long time and was beginning to think 
that his trip had been in vain, when he heard a soft 
crackling of the twigs above him, a heavy tread crashing 
through the bushes, a puffing snorting breath from the 
porpoise-like Pat, and he held his own breath and lay very 
still. Suppose Pat should take a new trail and discover 
his hiding place ? His heart pounded with great dull thuds. 

But Pat slid heavily down to the little clearing below 
him, fumbled a moment with his key, and then in a gruff 
guarded voice called: 

“ Hullo! Hullo! Sam? That you? Yes, aw’right! Yes, 
aw’right! How’s things? What? Hell’s to pay? Whaddaya 
mean hell ? Ain’t you gonta put it over ? After all my trouble 
you ain’t a gonta let that million slip through ? What ? Oh! 
Who ? The Valet ? He’s beat it, has he ? Whaddaya mean ? 
He took ’em? He took the pearls an’ diamonds? Well, 
Em’ruls then! What’s tha diffrunce? We ain’t gottum 
have we? Oh, bonds too! Well, whattya gonta do about 


188 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


it ? Move him ? What, the rich guy ? Move him where ? 
Why? We ain’ta gonta run no more risks. Link an’ 
Shorty are sore ’za pup when they come. I don't think 
they’ll stan’ for it. Well, where’ll ya move him? Who? 
Shorty? Oh, Link? Both? Well, I ain’t seen ’em. I tol’ 
’em to keep good an’ far away from me. I don’t build 
on loosin’ this job just now, See? What? It’s in the 
papers a’ready? You don’t say! Well, who you figger 
done that? That Valet? Well, where’s the harm? Can’t 
you work it all the better ? We got the guy, ain’t we ? He 
ain’t gottim that’s certain. We c’n deliver the goods, so 
we get the reward. How much reward they offerin? You 
don’t say! Well, I should say, get in yer work soon ’fore 
we get caught. Aw’right! I’m with ya. Well, s’long! 
I’ll be down here at nine sharp. Take a trip to China with 
ya next week ef ya pull it off. Aw’right! Goobby! ” and 
Pat hung up and puffed his way up the hill again, leaving 
Billy drenched with perspiration and filled with vague 
plans, and deep anxiety. He had got a clue but what good 
was it? How could he work it to the salvation of Mark? 
He could easily put the sissy over at the parsonage wise, 
do him a good turn, save his dad some money, but what 
good would that do Mark? Mark needed to establish an 
alibi, he could see that with half an eye, but how would 
anything Billy knew help that along unless—unless he told 
on himself? For a moment a long trail of circumstances 
that would surely follow such a sacrificial ordinance ap¬ 
peared before him and burned into his soul, most 
prominent among them being Aunt Saxon, hard worked 
and damp-pink-eyed, crying her heart out for the boy she 
had tried faithfully to bring up. And Miss Lynn. How 
sad her eyes would grow if Billy had to be tried and sen¬ 
tenced to prison. Not that Billy was afraid to go to 
prison, in fact the throught of it as an experience was 
rather exhilirating than not, but he was afraid to have 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


189 


those two know he had gone, afraid of their eyes, their 
sad eyes! Yes, and he was afraid of the thought of his 
own ingratitude, for down deep in his heart he could see 
a long line of things Aunt Saxon had done for him that she 
hadn t been obliged to do. Going without a new winter 
coat to get him an overcoat. His old one was warm, but 
his arms were out of it too far and he wouldn’t wear it. 
Sitting up nights the time he drank swamp water and 
had the fever! That was fierce! How he did rag her! 
And how patienty she bore it! The scare she had when 
the dog bit him! As if a little dog bite was anything! 
Doggone it, why were women such fools! 

And now this! Billy sat up with a jerk and shook 
himself free from the dead moss and leaves, wending his 
way sulkily across to where he had left his wheel, and 
pondering-pondering. “Shafton!” There ought to be 
something there to work on, but there wasn’t! 

Meantime Marilyn rode hard down the way to 
Economy, not slowing her pony till they reached the out¬ 
skirts of Economy. Her mind was in such a tumult that 
she felt as if she were being whirled on with circumstances 
without having a will to choose one thing from another. 
Mark! The unwelcome guests! Mark and Opal! Mark 
and Cherry! Cherry! The Chief of Police! Mark! And 
yes, Cherry! She was on her way to see Cherry! But what 
was she going to do when she got there, and how was she 
to excuse her strange visit after almost five years since 
she had seen the child? If there was truth in the rumor 
that she was connected with a shooting affair at the Blue 
Duck, and especially if there was truth in the charge that 
Mark had been going with her, would it not seem strange 
—perhaps be misconstrued by Cherry? By her family? 
They had all known of her own intimacy with Mark in the 
past. She shrank from the idea. Yet Marilyn Severn 


190 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


had not been brought up to regard public opinion when 
it was a question of doing something that ought to be done. 
The only question was, was it really something that ought 
to be done or was she letting Billy influence her unduly? 
Billy was shrewd. He knew Mark. He knew a lot more 
than he ever told. What did Billy know ? How she wished 
she had asked her father’s advise before coming, and yet, 
if she had, he might have been unduly influenced by dread¬ 
ing to have her put herself in the position of prying into 
the matter. 

As she rode and pondered she came near to the little 
house on the village street where Cherry lived, a house set 
out plumb with the sidewalk, and a little gate at the side 
to go round to the back door where the family lived, 
the front room being the tailor shop. As she drew near 
she looked up and was sure she saw Cherry in a short 
narrow skirt and an old middy blouse scurrying through 
the gate to the back door, and her heart thumped so hard 
she was almost tempted to ride on to the store first before 
making her call. But something in her that always held 
her to a task until it was completed forced her to dismount 
and knock at the door. 

It seemed long to wait with her heart thumping so, 
and why did it thump? She found herself praying, “O 
God, show me what to say! ” and then the door was open a 
crack and a sharp wizened face with a striking resemblance 
to Cherry’s bold little beauty, was thrust at her. It must 
be Cherry’s mother. Of course it was! 

“ Mr. Fenner ain’t in the shop! ” said the woman, 
“ He can’t do nothin to-day. He’s sick! ” 

Marilyn smiled: 

“ But I wanted to see Cherry,” she said, “ Aren’t you 
her mother? Don’t you remember me? I’m Marilyn 
Severn, her old music teacher. Is Cherry in? ” 

A frightened look passed over the woman’s face as she 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


191 


scanned the sweet face before her, and then a wily ex¬ 
pression darted into her eyes: 

“Oh,” she said with a forced smirk, “Yes, Miss 
Marilyn. Excuse me fer not recognizing you. You’ve 
grown a lot. Why no, Cherry ain’t at home this morning. 
She’ll be awful sorry not to see you. She thought a lot 
of you, she did. She got on so well with you in her music 
too. I says to her the other day, I says Cherry, I hear Miss 
Marilyn is home again, you’ll have to take up yer music 
again, and she says yes, she guessed she would. She’ll 
be round some day to see you. Sorry I can’t ask you in, 
but Mr. Fenner’s pretty sick. Oh, just the grip I guess. 
He’ll soon be all right.” 

She began to realize that the woman was in a hurry to 
get rid of her and she hastened away, relieved yet puzzled 
at the whole affair. She rode down into the village me¬ 
chanically and bought a spool of silk and the coffee strainer 
which had been her legitimate errand to the village, and 
turning back had scarcely passed the last house before she 
saw the Chief’s car coming toward her, and Mark, his face 
white and haggard, looking out from the back seat. He 
drew back as he recognized her, and tried to hide, and she 
rode on with only a passing bow which comprehended the 
whole car; but she was aware of Mark’s eyes upon her, 
steadily, watching her. She would have known he was 
watching her from the darkness of the back seat if her own 
eyes had been shut. What was it all about and what were 
they doing to Mark ? 


XVIII 


The last house in the village on the road to Economy 
was the Harricutt’s. It was built of gray cement blocks 
that the elder had taken for a bad debt, and had neither 
vine nor blossom to soften its grimness. Its windows were 
supplied with green holland shades, and its front door- 
yard was efficiently manned with plum trees and a peach, 
while the back yard was given over to vegetables. Elder 
Harricutt walked to Economy every day to his office in 
the Economy bank. He said it kept him in good condition 
physically. His wife was small and prim with little quick 
prying eyes and a false front that had a tendency to go 
askew. She wore bonnets with strings and her false teeth 
didn’t quite fit; they clicked as she talked. She kept a 
watch over the road at all times and very little ever got by 
her unnoticed. 

In wholesome contrast next door was the trim little 
white cottage where Tom McMertrie and his mother 
Christie lived, smothered in vines and ablaze with ger¬ 
aniums all down the front walk. And below that, almost 
facing the graveyard was a little green shingled bungalow. 
Mary Rafferty kept her yard aglow with phlox, verbenas 
and pansies, and revelled in vines and flowering shrubs. 

These two women were wonderful friends, though 
forty years marched between them. Mary’s hair was black 
as a crow’s wing above her great pansy-blue eyes with 
their long curling lashes, while Christie’s hair was sandy 
silver and her tongue full of brrrs. They had opposite 
pantry windows on the neighboring sides of their houses, 
where they often talked of a morning while Christie 
moulded her sweet loaves of bread or mixed scones and 
Mary made tarts and pies and cake for Jim’s supper. 

192 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


193 


Somehow without much being said about it they had 
formed a combination against their hard little knot of a 
neighbor behind the holland shades. 

The first house on the side street that ran at right angles 
to the main thoroughfare, just below Rafferty’s, was Dun- 
cannon’s. A picket fence at the side let into the vegetable 
gardens of the three, and the quiet little Mrs. Duncannon 
with the rippley brown hair and soft brown eyes often 
slipped through and made a morning call under cover of 
the kindly pole beans that hid her entrances and exits per¬ 
fectly from any green holland shaded windows that might 
be open that way. Jane Duncannon formed a third in 
this little combination. 

On the Monday morning following the session meeting 
Mary Rafferty and Christie McMertrie were at their re¬ 
spective pantry windows flinging together some toothsome 
delicacies for the evening meal, that all might move 
smoothly during the busy day. 

A neat line of flopping clothes glimmered in each back 
yard over the trim “ green ” that stretched across in front 
of the back door, and the irons were on in both kitchens 
preparing for a finish as soon as a “ piece ” should show 
signs of dry. 

“ Hev ye haird whut the extra session meetin’ was 
called for, Mary?” asked the older woman looking up 
from her mixing bowl. “ Tom went to the mill to tak 
the place of the noight watchman. His feyther’s dyin’ ye 
ken, and Tom’s not come by yet. I thot ye might 
hev haird.” 

Mary lifted her eyes with troubled glance: 

“ Not yet,” she said, “ but I’m thinkin of running over 
to Duncannons as soon as I get these pies in the oven. 
The clothes won’t be dry for a while, an’ I’ll take my pan 
of peas to shell. She’ll know of course. Maybe it’s 
nothing much,—but Jim said they held up Mark Carter 
is 



194 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


and made him come in. It was ten minutes of ten before 
he got away—! You don’t suppose anybody’s taken the 
gossip to the session do you?” 

“ There’s one we know well would be full cawpable of 
the same,” affirmed Christie patting her biscuits into place 
and tucking the bread cloth deftly over them, “But I’d 
be sorry to see a meenister an’ a session as wud be held up 
by one poor whimperin’ little elder of the like of him.” 

“ Mr. Severn won’t, I’m sure o’ that! ” said Mary 
trustingly, “ but there comes Mrs. Duncannon now, I’ll run 
over and see what’s in the wind.” 

Mrs. Duncannon had grown a smile on her gentle face 
that was like as two peas to her husband’s wide kindly 
grin, but there was no smile on her face this morning as 
she greeted her two friends, and dropped into a chair by 
the door of Christie’s immaculate kitchen, and her soft 
brown eyes were snapping: She had an air of carrying 
kindly mysterious explosives: 

“ Did ye hear that the old ferret held up Mark Carter 
last night and as good as called him a murderer in the face 
of the whole session ? ” she asked breathlessly. 

“ And whut said our meenister to thot ? ” in¬ 
quired Christie. 

Jane Duncannon flashed her a twinkle of appreciation: 

“He just clapped the senior elder in the chair as neat as 
a pin in a pincushion an’ moved an expression of confi¬ 
dence, utmost confidence was the word—! ” 

“ Mmmmmmmm! I thot as much! ” commented 
Christie, “ The blessed mon! ” 

“Oh, I’m so glad!” sighed Mary Rafferty sinking 
into a chair, “ Jim thinks the sun rises and sets in Mark 
Carter. They were kids together you know. He says 
people don’t know Mark. And he said if they turned Mark 
down at the church now, if they didn’t stand by him in 
his trouble, he had no more use for their religion! ” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


195 


“ Don’t you believe it, Mary Rafferty! Jim Rafferty 
loves the very ground the meenister walks on! ” 

What was that?” exclaimed Jane Duncannon run¬ 
ning to the side window. “ A strange car! Mary, come 
here! Is that the Chief of Police from Economy? ” 

Mary darted to the window followed by the 
elder woman: 

“ Yes, it is! ” she exclaimed drawing back aghast, 
“ You don't suppose he’s going to Carter’s? He wouldn't 
do that would he ?” 

“ He huz to do his dooty, doesnt he ? ” mused Christie, 
“ But thot’s not sayin’ he loikes it, child! ” 

“ Well, he might find a way not to frighten 
his mother—! ” 

Mrs. Duncannon stretched her neck to see if he was 
really stopping at the parsonage, and Christie murmured: 
“ Perhaps he will.” 

The little group lingered a moment, till Mary be¬ 
thought her of her pies in the oven and the three drifted 
thriftily back to their morning tasks, albeit with mind and 
heart down in the village. 

Presently on the glad morning air sounded again the 
chug chug of the motor, bringing them sharply back to 
their windows. Yes, there was the Chief’s car again. And 
Mark Carter with white haggard face sat in the back seat! 
Apprehension flew to the soul of each loyal woman. 

But before the sound of the Chief’s motor bearing 
Mark Carter Economyward had passed out of hearing, 
Jane Duncannon in a neat brown dress with a little round 
brown ribboned hat set trimly on her rippley hair, and a 
little round basket on her arm covered daintily with a 
white napkin, was nipping out her tidy front gate between 
the sunflowers and asters and tripping down Maple 
street as if it had been on her mind to go ever since 
Saturday night. 

Even before Mary Rafferty had turned from her Not- 


196 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


tingham laced parlor window and gone with swift steps to 
her kitchen door Christie McMertrie stood on her back 
step with her sunbonnet on and a glass of jelly wrapped in 
tissue paper in her hand: 

“ She’s glimpsed ’em,” she whispered briefly, with a 
nod toward the holland shades, “ an’ she’s up in her side 
bedroom puttin’ on her Sunday bunnit. She’ll be oot the 
door in another two meenits, the little black crow! If we 
bide in the fields we can mak Carters’ back stoop afore she 
gets much past the tchurch! ” 

Mary Rafferty caught up her pan of peas, dashed them 
into a basket that hung on the wall by the door, and bare¬ 
headed as she was hastened out through the garden after 
her friend for all the world as if she were going to pick 
more peas. Down the green lane between the bean poles 
they hurried through the picket gate, pushing aside the big 
gray Duncannon cat who basked in the sun under a pink 
hollyhock with a Duncannon smile on its gray whiskers 
like the rest of the family. 

“ Jane! Jane Duncannon! ” called Christie McMertrie. 
But the hollow echoes in the tidy kitchen flung back 
emptily, and the plate of steaming cinnamon buns on the 
white scrubbed table spoke as plainly as words could have 
done that no one was at home. 

“ She’s gone!” 

The two hurried around the house, through the front 
gate, across the street with a quick glance up and down to 
be sure that the Petrie babies playing horse in the next 
yard w T ere their only observers, and then ducking under 
the bars of the fence they scuttled down a slope, crossed 
a trickle of a brook that hurried creek ward, and up the 
opposite bank. Behind Little’s barn they paused to glance 
back. Some one was coming out the Harricutt door, some 
one wearing a bonnet and a black veil. They hurried on. 
There were two more fences separating the meadows. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


197 


Mary went over and Christie between. They made quick 
work of the rest of the way and crept panting through the 
hedge at the back of Carter’s just as Jane Duncannon 
swung open the little gate in front with a glimpse back up 
the street in triumph and a breath of relief that she had 
won. By only so much as a lift of her lashes and a light¬ 
ing of her soft brown eyes did she recognize and incor¬ 
porate the other two in her errand, and together the three 
entered the Carter house by the side entrance, with a neigh¬ 
borly tap and a call: “ Miz Carter, you home? ” 

Quick nervous steps overhead, a muffled voice calling 
catchily, “Yes, I’m coming, just set down, won’t you?” 
and they dropped into three dining-room chairs and drew 
breath, mopping their warm faces with their handkerchiefs 
and trying to adjust their minds to the next move. 

Their hostess gave them no time to prepare a program. 
She came hurriedly down stairs, obviously anxious, openly 
with every nerve on the quivive, and they saw at once that 
she had been crying. Her hair was damp about her fore¬ 
head as if from hasty ablution. She looked from one to 
another of her callers with a frightened glance that went 
beyond them as if looking for others to come, as she paused 
in the doorway puzzled. 

“ This is a s’prise party, Miz Carter,” began Jane Dun- 
cannon laughing, “We all brought our work along and 
can’t stay but a minute, but we got an idea an’ couldn’t 
keep it till Ladies’Aid. You got a minute to spare? Go 
get your knitting and set down. Now! It’s Miz’Severn’s 
birthday next Sat’day an’ we thought ’twould be nice to get 
her a present. What do you think about it ? ” 

Mrs. Carter who had stood tensely in the doorway, 
her fingers whitely gripping the woodwork, her face 
growing whiter every minute, suddenly relaxed with re¬ 
lief in every line of her body, and bloomed into a smile: 

“Oh, why, is it? Of course! What’ll it be? Why 



198 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


couldn’t we finish that sunburst bed quilt we started last 
year while she was away? If we all get at it I think we 
could finish. There’s some real fast quilters in the Aid. 
Wait, till I get my apples to pare. I promised Mark I’d 
have apple sauce for lunch! ” 

A quick glance went from eye to eye and a look of 
relief settled down on the little company. She expected 
Mark home for lunch then! 

They were in full tide of talk about the quilting pat¬ 
tern when a knock came on the front door, and Mary 
Rafferty jumped up and ran to open it. They heard the 
Harricutt voice, clear, sharp, incisive: 

“ I came to sympathize—! ” and then as Mary swung 
her face into the sunlight the voice came suddenly up as 
against a stone wall with a gasp and “ Oh, it’s you! 
Where’s Mrs. Carter? I wish to see Mrs. Carter.” 

“ She’s right back in the dining-room, Mrs. Harricutt. 
Come on back. We’re talking over how to celebrate Miz 
Severn’s birthday. Do you like a straight quilting or 
diamond, Miz Harricutt: It’s for the sunburst coverlet 
you know! ” 

“ The sunburst coverlet! ” exclaimed Mrs. Harricutt 
irately, as though somehow it were an indecent subject at 
such a time as this, but she followed Mary back to the 
dining-room with a sniff of curiosity. She fairly gasped 
when she saw Mrs. Carter with her small sensitive face 
bright with smiles: 

“ Just take that chair by the window, Mrs. Harricutt,” 
she said affably, “ and excuse me fer not getting up. I’ve 
got to get these apples on the fire, for I promised Mark 
some apple sauce for lunch, and he likes it stone cold.” 

Mrs. Harricutt pricked up her ears: 

“ Oh, Mark is coming home for lunch then! ” Her 
voice was cold, sharp, like a steel knife dipped in lemon 
juice. There was a bit of a curl on the tip of it that made 
one wince as it went through the soul. Little Mrs. Carter 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


199 


flushed painfully under her sensitive skin, up to the roots 
of her light hair. She had been pretty in her girlhood, 
and Mark had her coloring in a stronger way. 

“ Oh, yes, he’s coming home for lunch,” she answered 
brightly, glad of this much assurance. “And he has to 
have it early because he has to drive that strange young 
woman from the parsonage back somewhere down in New 
Jersey. She came alone by herself yesterday, but the 
mountain passes sort of scairt her, and she asked Mark to 
drive back with her.” 

“ Oh! ” There was a challenge in the tone that called 
the red to Mrs. Carter’s cheek again, But Christie 
McMertrie’s soft burring tongue slid in smoothly: 

“ What wad ye think o’ the briar pattern around the 
edge ? I know it’s some worruk, but it’s a bonnie border 
to lie under, an’ it’s not so tedious whan there’s plenty o’ 
folks to tak a hand.” 

They carried the topic along with a whirl then and Mrs. 
Harricutt had no more chance to harry her hostess. Then 
suddenly Mary arose in a panic: 

“ I left my pies in the oven! ” she cried, “ They’ll be 
burned to a crisp. I must go. Miz Harricutt, are you 
going along now? I’ll walk with you. I want to ask 
you how you made that plum jam you gave me a taste of 
the other day. Jim thinks it is something rare, and I’ll 
have to be making some or he’ll never be satisfied, that is if 
you don’t mind—! ” and before Mrs. Carter realized what 
was happening Mary had marshalled the Harricutt vulture 
down the street, and was questioning eagerly about meas¬ 
ures of sugar and plums and lemon peel and nuts: 

“ Now,” said Christie setting down her jelly glass that 
she had been holding all this time, “ We’ll be ganging awa. 
There’s a bit jar of raspberry jam for the laddie with the 
bright smile, an’ you think it over and run up and say 
which pattern you think is bonniest.” 

“ It was just beautiful of you all to come—” said little 




200 


THE CITY OF FERE 


Mrs. Carter looking from one to another in painful grati¬ 
tude—why it’s been just dear for you to run in this way—” 

“ Yes, a regular party! ” said Jane Duncannon squeez¬ 
ing her hand with understanding. “ See, Mary has left her 
peas. You’d best put them on to boil for Mark. He’ll 
be coming back pretty soon. Come, Christie, wumman, 
it’s time we was back at our worruk! ” and they hurried 
through the hedge and across the meadows to their home 
once more, but as they entered the Duncannon gate they 
marked Billy Gaston, head down, pedalling along over 
on Maple Street, his jaws keeping rhythmic time with 
his feet. 

One hour later the smooth chug of a car that was not 
altogether unfamiliar to their ears brought those four 
women eagerly to their respective windows, and as the old 
clock chimed the hour of noon they beheld Mark Carter 
driving calmly down the street toward his own home in his 
own car. His own car! and Billy Gaston lounging lazily 
by his side still chewing rhythmically. 

Mark’s Car! Mark! Billy! Ah Billy! Three of them 
mused with a note of triumph in their eyes. 

And Mrs. Harricutt as she rolled her Sunday bonnet 
strings mused: 

“ Now, how in the world did that Mark Carter get his 
own car down to Economy when he went up with the 
Chief? He had it down here this morning, I know, for 
I saw him riding round. And that little imp of a Billy! I 
wonder why he always tags him round! Miss Saxon 
ought to be warned about that! I’ll have to do it! But 
how in the world did Mark get his car? ” 

Billy enjoyed his lunch that day, a bit of cold chicken 
and bread, two juicy red cheeked apples, and an unknown 
quantity of sugary doughnuts from the stone crock in 
the pantry. He sat on the side step munching the last 
doughnut he felt he could possibly swallow. Mark was 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


201 


home and all was well. Himself had seen the impressive 
glance that passed between Mark and the Chief at parting. 
The Chief trusted Mark that was plain. Billy felt reas¬ 
sured. He reflected that that guy Judas had been pre¬ 
cipitate about hanging himself. If he had only waited 
and done a little something about it there might have been 
a different ending to the story. It was sort of up to Judas 
anyway, having been the cause of the trouble. 

With this virtuous conclusion Billy wiped the sugar 
from his mouth, mounted his wheel and went forth to 
browse in familiar and much neglected pastures. 

He eyed the Carter house as he slid by. Mrs. Carter 
was placidly shaking out the table cloth on the side porch. 
Mark had eaten his apple sauce and gone. He passed 
Browns, Todds, Bateses, chasing a white hen that had some¬ 
how escaped her confines, but in front of Joneses he sud¬ 
denly became aware of the blue car that stood in front of 
the parsonage. It had come to life and was throbbing. It 
. was backing toward him and going to turn around. On 
the sidewalk leaning on a cane stood the obnoxious 
stranger for whose presence in Sabbath Valley he, Billy 
Gaston, was responsible. He lounged at ease with a 
smile on his ugly mug and acted as if he lived there! There 
was nothing about his appearance to suggest his near 
departure. His disabled car still stood silent and helpless 
beside the curb. Aw Gee! 

Billy swerved to the other side of the road to avoid the 
blue car at a hair’s breadth, but as it turned he looked up 
impudently to behold the strange girl with the flour on 
her face and the green baseball bats in her ears smiling up 
into the face of Mark Carter, who was driving. Billy 
nearly fell off his wheel and under the car, but recovered 
his balance in time to swerve out of the way without ap¬ 
parently having been observed by either Mark or the lady, 
and shot like a streak down the road. Beyond the church 



202 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


he drew a wide curve and turned in at the graveyard, cast¬ 
ing a quick furtive eye toward the parsonage, where he 
was glad not to discover even the flutter of a garment to 
show that Lynn Severn was about. That guy was there, 
but Miss Lynn was not chasing him. That was as it should 
be. He breathed a sigh from his heavy heart and stole 
sadly back to the old mossy stone where so many of his 
life problems had been thought out. Still, that guy was 
there! He had the advantage! And Mark and that lady! 
Bah! He sat down to meditate on Judas and his sins. 
It seemed that life was just about as disappointing as it 
could be! His rough young hand leaned hard against the 
grimy old stone till the half worn lettering hurt his flesh 
and he shifted his position and lifted his hand. There on 
the palm were the quaint old letters, imprinted in the flesh, 
“Blessed are the dead—” Gosh yes! Weren't they? 
Judas had been right after all. “ Aw Gee! ” he said aloud, 
“ Whatta fool I bin! ” He glanced down at the stone as 
he rubbed the imprint from the fleshy part of his hand. 
The rest of the text caught his eye. “ Blessed are the 
dead that die in the Lord! ” There was a catch in that of 
course. It wasn’t blessed if you didn’t die in the Lord. 
“ In the Lord ” meant that you didn’t do anything Judas¬ 
like. He understood. The people who didn’t die in the 
Lord weren’t blessed. They didn’t go to heaven, whatever 
heaven was. They went to hell. Heaven had never 
seemed very attractive to Billy when he thought of it 
casually, and he had taken it generally for granted that he 
being a boy was naturally destined for the other place. In 
fact until he knew Lynn Severn he had always told himself 
calmly that he expected to go to hell sometime, it had 
seemed the manly thing to do. Most men to his mind were 
preparing for hell. It seemed the masculine place of final 
destiny, Heaven was for women. He had ventured some 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


of this philosophy on his aunt once in a particularly strenu¬ 
ous time when she had told him that he couldn’t expect 
the reward of the righteous if he continued in his present 
ways, but she had been so horrified, and wept so long and 
bitterly that he hadn’t ever had the nerve to try it again. 
And since Marilyn Severn had been his teacher he had 
known days when he would almost be willing to go to 
heaven—for her sake. He had also suspected, at times, 
that Mr. Severn was fully as much of a man as Mark 
Carter, although Mark was his own, and if Mark decided 
to go to hell Billy felt there could be no other destiny 
for himself. 

But now, face to face with realities, Billy suddenly 
began to realize what hell was going to be like. Billy felt 
hell surrounding him. Flames could not beat the reproach 
that now flared him in the face and stung him to the quick 
with his own sinfulness. He, Billy Gaston, Captain of the 
Sabbath Valley Base Ball team, prospective Captain of the 
Sabbath Valley Foot Ball team, champion runner, and 
high jumper, champion swimmer and boxer of the boy’s 
league of Monopoly County, friend and often tolerated 
companion of Mark Carter the great, trusted favorite of 
his beloved and saintly Sunday School teacher, was in hell! 
He could never more hold up his head and walk proud of 
himself. He was in hell at fourteen for life, and by his 
own act! And Gosh hang it! Hell didn’t look so attractive 
in the near vision stretching out that way through life, and 
then some, as it had before he faced it. He’d rather walk 
through fire somewhere and stand some chance of getting 
done with it sometime. “ Aw Gee! Gosh! Whatta fool 
I bin!” 

And then he set himself to see just what he had done, 
while the high walls of sin seemed to rise closer about him, 




204 


THE CITY OF FERE 


and his face burned with the heat of the pit into which he 
had put himself. 

There was that guy Shafton—sissyman!—He had put 
him in the parsonage along with his beloved teacher! If 
he only hadn’t taken that ten dollars or listened to that devil 
of a Pat, he wouldn’t have put up that detour and Shafton 
would have gone on his way. What difference if he had got 
kidnapped ? His folks wouldda bailed him out with their old 
jewels and things. Whaddid anybody want of jewels for 
anyway? Just nasty little bits of stone and glass! Mark 
had seen the guy there in church. Mark didn’t like it. 
He knew by the set of Mark’s mouth. Of course Mark 
went with Cherry sometimes, but then that was different! 
Lynn was—well, Lynn was Miss Marilyn! That was all 
there was about it. 

And if he hadn’t put up that detour Mark would have 
gone home that night before twelve and his mother would 
have known he was home, and likely other people would 
have seen him, and been able to prove he wasn’t out shoot¬ 
ing anybody, and then they wouldn’t have told all those 
awful things about him. Of course now Mark was safe, 
of course, but then it wasn’t good to have things like that 
said about Mark. It was fierce to have a thing like that 
session meeting to remember! He wanted to kill that old 
ferret of a Harricutt whenever he thought about it. Then 
he would be a murderer, and be hanged, and he wouldn’t 
care if he did mebbe. Aw Gee! 

A meadow lark suddenly pierced the sky with its wild 
sweet note high in the air somewhere, and Billy wondered 
with a sick thud of his soul how larks dared to sing in a 
world like this where one could upset a whole circle of 
friends by a single little turn of finance that he hadn’t 
meant anything wrong by at all ? The bees droned around 
the honeysuckle that billowed over the little iron fence 
about a family burying lot, and once Lynn Severn’s laugh 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


205 


—not her regular laugh, but a kind of a company polite 
one—echoed lightly across to his ears and his face dropped 
into his hands. He almost groaned. Billy Gaston was at 
the lowest ebb he had ever been in his young life, and his 
conscience, a thing he hadn’t suspected he had, and 
wouldn’t have owned if he had, had risen up within him to 
accuse him, and there seemed no way on earth to get rid 
of it. A conscience wasn’t a manly thing according to his 
code, yet here he was, he Billy Gaston, with a conscience! 

It w r as ghastly 1 




XIX 


Laurie Shafton had caught Lynn as she came down 
the stairs with a bit of sewing in her hand to give Naomi 
a direction from her mother, and had begged her to come 
out on the porch and talk to him. He pleaded that he 
was lonesome, and that it was her duty as hostess to amuse 
him for a while. 

Lynn had no relish for talking with the guest. Her 
heart was too sore to care to talk with any one. But her 
innate courtesy, and natural gentleness finally yielded to 
his pleading, for Laurie had put on a humility that was 
almost becoming, and made her seem really rude to refuse. 

She made him sit down in the hammock at the far end, 
however, and insisted on herself taking the little rocker 
quite near the front door. She knew her father would 
soon be returning from some parish calls and would relieve 
her, so she settled herself with the bit of linen she was 
hemstitching and prepared to make the best of it. 

“ It’s a shame my car is out of commission yet,” began 
Laurie settling back in the hammock and by some strange 
miracle refraining from lighting a cigarette. It wouldn’t 
have entered his head that Lynn would have minded. 
He didn’t know any girls objected to smoking. But this 
girl interested him strangely. He wasn’t at all sure but it 
was a case of love at first sight. He had always been look¬ 
ing for that to happen to him. He hoped it had. It would 
be such a delightful experience. He had tried most of the 
other kinds. 

“ Yes, it is too bad for you to be held up in your 
journey this way,” sympathized Lynn heartily, “but father 
says the blacksmith is going to fix you up by to-morrow he 
hopes. Those bearings will likely come to-night.” 

206 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


207 


“ Oh, but it has been a dandy experience. I’m cer¬ 
tainly glad it happened. Think what I should have missed 
all my life, not knowing you! ” 

He paused and looked soulfully at Lynn waiting for 
an appreciative glance from her fully occupied eyes, but 
Lynn seemed to have missed the point entirely: 

“ I should think you might have well afforded to lose 
the experience of being held up in a dull little town that 
couldn’t possibly be of the slightest interest to you,” she 
said dryly, with the obvious idea of making talk. 

“ Oh, but I think it is charming,” he said lightly! “ I 
hadn’t an idea there was such a place in the world as this. 
It’s ideal, don’t you know, so secluded and absolutely rest¬ 
ful. I’m having a dandy time, and you people have been 
just wonderful to me. I think I shall come back often if 
you’ll let me.” 

“ I can’t imagine your enjoying it,” said Lynn looking 
at him keenly, “ It must be so utterly apart from your cus¬ 
tomary life. It must seem quite crude and almost 
uncivilized to you.” 

“ That’s just it, it’s so charmingly quaint. I’m bored 
to death with life as I’m used to it. I’m always seeking 
for a new sensation, and I seem to have lighted on it here 
all unexpectedly. I certainly hope my car will be fixed by 
morning. If it isn’t I’ll telegraph for my man and have 
him bring down some bearings in one of the other cars 
and fix me up. I’m determined to take you around a 
bit and have you show me the country. I know it would 
be great under your guidance.” 

“ Thank you,” said Lynn coolly, “ But I haven’t much 
time for pleasuring just now, and you will be wanting to 
go on your way—” 

He flushed with annoyance. He was not accustomed 
to being baffled in this way by any girl, but he had sense 




208 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


enough to know that only by patience and humility could 
he win any notice from her. 

“ Oh, I shall want to linger a bit and let this doctor 
finish up this ankle of mine. It isn’t fair to go away to 
another doctor before I’m on my feet again. 

He thought she looked annoyed, but she did not answer. 

“ Did you ever ride in a racer? ” he asked suddenly, 
“ I’ll teach you to drive. Would you like that? ” 

“ Thank you,” she said pleasantly, “ but that wouldn’t 
be necessary, I know how to drive.” 

He almost thought there was a twinkle of mischief in 
her eye: 

“ You know how to drive! But you haven’t a car? 
Oh, I suppose that young Carter taught you to drive his,” 
he said with chagrin. He was growing angry. He began 
to suspect her of playing with him. After all, even if she 
was engaged to that chap, he had gone off with Opal quite 
willingly it would appear. Why should he and she not 
have a little fling? 

“ No,” said Marilyn, “Mr. Carter did not have a car 
until he went away from Sabbath Valley. I learned while 
I was in college.” 

“ Oh, you’ve been to college! ” the young man sat up 
with interest, “ I thought there was something too 
sophisticated about you to have come out of a place like 
this. You had a car while you were in college I suppose.” 

Lynn’s eyes were dancing: 

“ Why didn’t you say ‘dump’ like this? That’s what 
your tone said,” she laughed, “ and only a minute ago you 
were saying how charming it was. No, I had no car in 
college, I was—” But he interrupted her eagerly: 

“ Now, you are misunderstanding me on purpose,” he 
declared in a hurt tone. “I think this is an ideal spot off 
in the hills this way, the quaintest little Utopia in the world, 
but of course you know you haven’t the air of one who 
had never been out of the hills, and the sweet sheltered 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


209 


atmosphere of this village. Tell me, when and where did 
you drive a car, and IT1 see if I can’t give you one better 
for a joy ride.” 

Lynn looked up placidly and smiled: 

“In New York,’’she said quietly, “at the beginning 
of the war, and afterward in France.” 

Laurie Shafton sat up excitedly, the color flushing into 
his handsome face: 

“ Were you in France? ” he said admiringly, “ Well, I 
I might have known. I saw there was something different 
about you. Y. M., I suppose ? ” 

“ No,” said Lynn, “ Salvation Army. My father has 
been a friend of the Commander’s all his life. She knew 
that we believed in all their principles. There were only a 
very few outsiders, those whom they knew well, allowed 
to go with them. I was one.” 

“ Well,” said Laurie, eyeing her almost embarrassedly, 
“You girls made a great name for yourselves with your 
doughnuts* and your pies. The only thing I had against 
you was that you didn’t treat us officers always the way we 
ought to have been treated. But I suppose there were 
individual exceptions. I went into a hut one night and 
tried to get some cigarettes and they wouldn’t let me 
have any.” 

“ No, we didn’t sell cigarettes,” said Lynn with satis¬ 
faction, “ That wasn’t what we were there for. We had a 
few for the wounded and dying who were used to them 
and needed them of course, but we didn’t sell them.” 

“ And then I tried to get some doughnuts and coffee, 
but would you believe it, they wouldn’t let me have any till 
all the fellows in line had been served. They said I had 
to take my turn! They were quite insulting about it! Of 
\ course they did good, but they ought to have been made to 
understand that they couldn’t treat United States Officers 
that way! ” 

“ Why not ? Were you any better than any of the 




210 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


soldiers? ” she asked eyeing him calmly, and somehow he 
seemed to feel smaller than his normal estimate of himself. 

“ An officer? ” he said with a contemptuous haughty 
light in his eye. 

“ What is an officer but the servant of his men? ” asked 
Lynn. “ Would you want to eat before them when they 
had stood hours in line waiting? They who had all the 
hard work and none of the honors? ” 

Laurie’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes angry: 

“ That’s rot! ” he said rudely, “ Where did you get it ? 
The officers were picked from the cream of the land. They 
represent the great Nation. An insult to them is an insult 
to the Nation—! ” 

Lynn began to smile impudently—and her eyes were 
dancing again. 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Shafton, you must not forget 
I was there. I knew both officers and men. I admit that 
some of the officers were princely, fit men to represent a 
great Christian Nation, but some of them again were well 
—the scum of the earth, rather than the cream. Mr. 
Shafton it does not make a man better than his fellows to 
be an officer, and it does not make him fit to be an officer 
just because has father is able to buy him a commission.” 

Laurie flushed angrily again: 

“ My father did not buy me a commission! ” he said 
indignantly, “ I went to a training camp and won it.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Shafton, I meant nothing 
personal, but I certainly had no use for an officer who came 
bustling in on those long lines of weary soul-sick boys just 
back from the front, and perhaps off again that night, and 
tried to get ahead of them in line. However, let’s talk of 
something else. Were you ever up around Dead Man’s 
Curve ? What division were you in ? ” 

Laurie let his anger die out and answered her questions. 
For a few minutes they held quite an animated conversa- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


211 


tion about France and the various phases of the war. 
Laurie had been in air service. One could see just how 
handsome he must have looked in his uniform. One would 
know also that he would be brave and reckless. It was 
written all over his face and in his very attitude. He 
showed her his “ croix de guerre.” 

“ Mark was taken prisoner by the Germans,” she said 
sadly as she handed it back, her eyes dreamy and faraway, 
then suddenly seeming to realize that she had spoken her 
thoughts aloud she flushed and hurried on to other ex¬ 
periences during the war, but she talked abstractedly, as 
one whose thoughts had suddenly been diverted. The 
young man watched her baffled: 

“ You seem so aloof,” he said all at once watching her 
as she sewed away on the bit of linen, “ You seem almost 
as if you—well —despised me. Excuse me if I say that it’s 
a rather new experience. People in my world don’t act that 
way to me, really they don’t. And you don’t even know 
who I am nor anything about me. Do you think that’s 
quite fair?” 

Lynn looked at him with suddenly arrested attention: 

“ I’m sorry,” she said, “ I didn’t mean to be rude. But 
possibly you’ve come to the heart of the matter. I am not 
of your world. You know there’s a great deal in not being 
able to get another’s point of view. I hope I haven’t done 
you an injustice. I haven’t meant to. But you’re wrong 
in saying I don’t know who you are or anything about you. 
You are the son of William J. Shafton—the only son, isn’t 
that so? Then you are the one I mean. There can’t be 
any mistake. And I do know something about you. In 
fact I’ve been very angry at you, and wished I might meet 
you and tell you what I thought of you.” 

“You don’t say!” said Laurie getting up excitedly 
and moving over to a chair next to hers regardless of his 
lame ankle, “ This certainly is interesting! What the deuce 




212 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


have I been doing to get myself in your bad graces? I 
better repent at once before I hear what it is? ” 

“ You are the one who owns the block of warehouses 

down on-street and won’t sell at any price to give the 

little children in all that region a place to get a bit of fresh 
air, the grass and a view of the sky. You are the one who 
won’t pull down your old buildings and try new and im¬ 
proved ways of housing the poor around there so that they 
can grow up decently clean and healthy and have a little 
chance in this world. Just because you can’t have as many 
apartments and get as much money from your investment 
you let the little children crowd together in rooms that 
aren’t fit for the pigs to live in, they are so dark and airless, 
and crowded already. Oh, I know you keep within the 
law! You just skin through without breaking it, but you 
won’t help a little bit, you won’t even let your property 
help if someone else is willing to take the bother! Oh, I’ve 
been so boiling at you ever since I heard your name that I 
couldn’t hardly keep my tongue still, to think of that great 
beautiful car out there and how much it must have cost, 
and to hear you speak of one of your other cars as if you 
had millions of them, and to think of little Carmela living 
down in the basement room of Number 18 in your block, 
growing whiter and whiter every day, with her great blue 
eyes and her soft fine wavy hair, and that hungry eager look 
in her face. And her mother, sewing, sewing, all day long at 
the little cellar window, and going blind because you won’t 
put in a bigger one; sewing on coarse dark vests, putting 
in pockets and buttonholes for a living for her and 
Carmela, and you grinding her down and running around 
in cars like that and taking it out of little Carmela, and 
little Carmela’s mother! Oh! How can I help feeling 
aloof from a person like that ? ” 

Laurie sat up astonished watching her: 



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213 


“ Why, my dear girl! ” he exclaimed, “ Do you know 
what you’re talking about? Do you realize that it would 
take a mint of money to do all the fool things that these 
silly reformers are always putting up to you? My lawyer 
looks after all those matters. Of course I know nothing 
about it—!” 

“ Well, you ought to know,” said Lynn excitedly, 
“ Does the money belong to your lawyer? Isn’t it yours 
to be responsible for? Well, then if you are stealing some 
of it out of little Carmela and a lot of other little children 
and their mothers and fathers oughtn’t you to know ? Is 
your lawyer going to take the responsibility about it in the 
kingdom of heaven I should like to know ? Can he stand 
up in the judgment day and exempt you by saying that he 
had to do the best he could for your property because you 
required it of him? Excuse me for getting so excited, 
but I love little Carmela. I went to see her a great deal 
last winter when I was in New York taking my senior 
year at the University. And I can’t help telling you the 
truth about it. I don’t suppose you’ll do anything about 
it, but at least you ought to know! And I’m not your 
dear girl , either! ” 

Marilyn rose suddenly from her chair, and stood facing 
him with blazing eyes and cheeks that were aflame. It was 
a revelation to the worldly wise young man that a saint so 
sweet could blossom suddenly into a beautiful and furious 
woman. It seemed unreal to find this wonderful, unique, 
excitable young woman with ideas in such a quiet secluded 
spot of the earth. Decidedly she had ideas. 

“ Excuse me,” he said, and rose also, an almost depre¬ 
catory air upon him, “ I assure you I meant nothing out of 
the way, Miss Severn. I certainly respect and honor you 
—And really, I had no idea of all this about my property. 
I’ve never paid much heed to my property except to spend 


214 


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the income of course. It wasn’t required of me. I must 
look into this matter. If I find it as you think—that is if 
there is no mistake, I will see what I can do to remedy it. 
In any case we will look after little Carmela. I’ll settle 
some money on her mother, wouldn’t that be the best way ? 
I can’t think things are as bad as you say—” 

“ Will you really do something about it? ” asked Lynn 
earnestly, “ Will you go up to New York and see for 
yourself? Will you go around in every room of your 
buildings and get acquainted with those people and find 
out just what the conditions are? ” 

“Why—I—! ” he began uncertainly. 

“ Oh, I thought you couldn’t stand that test! That 
would be too much bother—You would rather—! ” 

“ No, Wait! I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Here! I’ll go 
if you’ll go with me and show me what you mean and what 
you want done. Come. I’ll take you at your word. If 
you really want all those things come on and show me just 
what to do. I’m game. I’ll do it. I’ll do it whether it 
needs doing or not, just for you. Will you take me up? ” 
“ Of course ” said Lynn quickly, “ I’ll go with you and 
show you. I expect to be in New York next month helping 
at the Salvation Home while one of their workers is away 
on her vacation. I’ll show you all over the district as many 
times as you need to go, if it’s not too hot for you to come 
back to the city so early.” 

He looked at her sharply. There was a covert sneer in 
her last words that angered him, and he was half inclined 
to refuse the whole thing, but somehow there was some¬ 
thing in this strange new type of girl that fascinated him. 
Now that she had the university, and the war, and the 
world, for a background she puzzled and fascinated him 
more than ever. Half surprised at his own interest he 
bowed with a new kind of dignity over his habitual 
light manner: 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


215 


I shall be delighted, Miss Severn. It will not be too 
hot for me if it is not too hot for you. I shall be at your 
service, and I hope you will discover that there is one officer 
who knows how to obey/’ 

She looked at him half surprised, half troubled and 
then answered simply : 

“ Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve done you an injustice. 
I’m afraid I didn’t think you would be game enough to do 
it. I hope I haven’t been too rude. But you see I feel 
deeply about it and sometimes I forget myself? ” 

“ I am sure I deserve all you have said,” said Laurie 
as gravely as his light nature could manage, “ but there is 
one thing that puzzles me deeply. I wish you would en¬ 
lighten me. All this won’t do you any good. It isn’t for 
you at all. Why do you care? ” 

Marilyn brought her lovely eyes to dwell on his face 
for a moment thoughtfully, a shy beautiful tenderness 
softening every line of her eager young face: 

“ It’s because—” she began diffidently, “ It’s because 
they all are God’s children—and I love Him better than 
anything else in life! ” 

The swift color made her face lovely as she spoke, and 
with the words she turned away and went quickly into the 
house. The young man looked after her and dared not 
follow. He had never had a shock like that in his life. 
Girls had talked about everything under heaven to him at 
one time or another, but they had never mentioned God 
except profanely. 

Marilyn went swiftly up to her room and knelt down 
by her bed, burying her hot cheeks in the cool pillow and 
trying to pray. She was glad, glad that she had spoken 
for her poor city children, glad that there was a prospect 
or help perhaps; but beside and beyond it all her heart was 
crying out for another matter that was namelessly tugging 



216 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


away at the very foundations of her soul. Why, Oh Why 
had Mark gone away with that queer girl ? He must have 
seen what she was! He must have known that it was 
unnecessary! He must have known how it would hurt his 
friends, and that the man she came to see could have gone 
as well as he and better. Why did he go? She would not, 
she could not believe anything wrong of Mark. Yet why 
did he go? 


XX 


Billy had no appetite for the nice supper that Aunt 
Saxon had ready when he came dejectedly home that night. 
He had passed the parsonage and seen through the dining¬ 
room window that the rich guy was sitting at the supper 
table opposite Marilyn laughing and talking with her and 
his soul was sick within him. That was his doing! Nobody 
else but himself to blame! 

Aunt Saxon had apple dumplings with plenty of 
“ goo,” black with cinnamon just the way he loved it, but 
he only minced at the first helping and scarcely tasted the 
second. He chopped a great many kindling after supper, 
and filled the woodbox, and thoughtfully wound the clock. 
Then instead of going out with his usual “ I gotta beat 
it! ” he sat languidly on the doorstep in the dusk, and 
when she anxiously questioned if he were sick he 
said crossly: 

“ Aw, Gee! Can’t ya let a fella alone! I’m all in, 
can’t ya see it ? I’m gonta bed! ” and knowing he had said 
the most alarming thing in the whole category he slammed 
upstairs to his own room and flung himself across his bed. 

Aunt Saxon filled with vague fears crept softly up 
after him, tapping at his locked door : 

“Willie, what is the matter? Just tell auntie where 
the pain is and I’ll get you some medicine that will fix you 
all up by morning. I’ll get you a hot water bag—! ” 

“DON’T WANT NO HOT WATER BAGS!” 
roared the sore hearted Billy. “ Can’t ya lemme alone ? ” 
Silence a moment while Aunt Saxon pondered tear¬ 
fully and sighfully, then: 

“ Willie, is it the tooth ache ? ” 

“ NoooOH! ” roared Billy. 

A pause, then: 


217 


218 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ Billy, you’ve had a fall off that wheel and hurt yer 
head or cut yer knee, I know, I’ve always thought you’d do 
that, that old wheel! You oughtta have a new one. But 
I’ll bring the arnica and bathe it. And we’ll paint it with 
iodine—where was it Willie ? Yer knee ? ” 

Billy’s shoes came to the floor with a bang: 

“ Aw gee! Can’t ya keep yer mouth shut an’ let a 
fella have a little sleep. It ain’t Nowhere! It ain’t Nothin' 
an’ I didn’t have no fall an’ I don’t want no new bicycle. 
D’ye hear? I don’t want nothin’ ’cept just to be let alone. 
I wantta go ta sleep. Ain’t I ben tellin’ ya fer the last 
half hour? It ain’t sinful fer a fella to wantta take a little 
sleep is it when he’s been up half the night before taking 
care of a fella on the mountain?—But if I ain’t allowed, 
why then I’ll get up an’ go out somewheres. I know plenty 
of places where they’ll lemme sleep—” 

“ Oh Wil-lee! ” sobbed Aunt Saxon. “ That’s all right 
dear! Just you lie right down in your bed and take a good 
sleep. I didn’t understand. Auntie didn’t understand. 
All right Willie. I’ll keep it real still. Now you lie down 
won’t you? You will won’t you? You’ll really lie down 
and sleep won’t you Willie ? ” 

“ Didn’t I say I would? ” snapped Willie shamedly, and 
subsided on his bed again while Aunt Saxon stole pain¬ 
fully, noiselessly over the creak in the stair, closed the 
house for the night and crept tearfully to her own bed, 
where she lay for hours silently wiping the steady trickle of 
hopeless tears. Oh, Willie, Willie! And she had had 
such hopes! 

But Billy lay staring wide eyed at the open square of 
his window that showed the little village nestling among 
the trees dotted here and there with friendly winking 
lights, the great looming mountains in the distance, and 
Stark mountain, farthest and blackest of them all. He 
shut his eyes and tried to blot it out, but it seemed to loom 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


219 


through his very eyelids and mock him. He seemed to 
see Mark, his idol, carried between those other three dark 
figures into the blackness of that haunted house. He 
seemed to see him lying helpless, bound, on the musty bed 
in the deserted room, Mark, his beloved Mark. Mark who 
i had carried him on his shoulder as a tiny child, who had 
ridden him on his back, and taught him to swim and pitch 
ball and box, Mark who let him go where even the big boys 
were not allowed to accompany him, and who never told on 
him nor treated him mean nor went back on him in any 
, way! Mark! He had been the means of putting Mark in 
that helpless position, while circumstances which he was 
now quite sure the devil had been specially preparing, wove 
a tangled maze about the young man’s feet from which 
there seemed no way of extrication. 

Billy shut his eyes and tried to sleep but sleep would 
j not come. He began to doubt if he would ever sleep again. 
He lay listening to the evening noises of the village. He 
heard Jim Rafferty’s voice going by to the night shift, and 
Tom McMertrie. They were laughing softly and once 
he thought he heard the name “ Old Hair-Cut.” The 
Tully baby across the street had colic and cried like murder. 
Murder! Murder! Now why did he have to think of 
that word of all words? Murder? Well, it was crying 
like it wanted to murder somebody. He wished he was a 
baby himself so he could cry. He’d cry harder’n that. 
Little’s dog was barking again. He’d been barking all day 
long. It was probably at that strange guy at the parson¬ 
age. Little’s dog never did like strangers. That creak 
was Barneses gate with the iron weight hitched on the 
chain to make it shut, and somebody laughed away up the 
street! There went the clock, nine o’clock! Gee! Was 
that all ? He thought it must be about three in the morn¬ 
ing! And then he must have dozed off for a little, for 
when he woke with a start it was very still and dark, as if 




220 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


the moon had gone away, had been and gone again, and 
he heard a cautious little mouse gnawing at the baseboard 
in his room, gnawing and stopping and gnawing again, 
then whisking over the lath like fingers running a scale on 
the piano. He had watched Miss Lynn do it once on 
the organ. 

He opened his eyes and looked hard at the window. 
The dim outline of Stark mountain off in the distance 
began to grow into form, and what was that ? A speck of 
light ? It must be his eyes. He rubbed them sleepily and 
looked again. Yes, a light. Alert at once with the alert¬ 
ness that comes to all boys at the sound of a fire bell or 
some such alarm, he slid from his bed noiselessly and stole 
to the window. It was gone! Aw, Gee! He had been 
asleep and dreamed it. No, there it was again, or was it? 

Blackness all before his eyes, with a luminous sky dimly 
about the irregular mountain top fringed with trees. This 
was foolish. He felt chilly and crept back to bed, but could 
not keep his eyes from the dark spot against the sky. He 
tried to close the lids and go to sleep, but they insisted on 
flying open and watching. And then came what he had 
been watching for. Three winks, and stop, three winks, 
stop, and one long flash. Then all was dark. And though 
he watched till the church clock struck three he saw 
no more. 

But the old torment came back. Mark and Cherry and 
Lynn. The guy at the parsonage and the girl with the 
floured face and base ball bats in her ears! Aw Gee! He 
must have a fever! It was hours since the clock had struck 
three. It must be nearly four, and then it would soon be 
light and he could get up. There seemed to be a light some¬ 
where down the street through the trees. Not the street 
lamp either. Somebody sick likely. Hark! What was 
that ? He wished he hadn't undressed. He sat up in bed 
and listened. The purr of a car! Someone was stealing 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


221 


Mark’s car! Mark was away and everybody knew it. 
Nobody in Sabbath Valley would steal, except, perhaps 
over at the plush mill. There were new people there— 
Was that Mark’s car? Some car! 

With a motion like a cat he sprang into the necessary 
garment which nestled limply on the floor by the bed, and 
was at the window in a trice. A drop like a cat to the shed 
roof, down the rainwater spout to the ground, a stealthy 
step to the back shed where old trusty leaned, and he was 
away down the road a speck in the dark, and just in time 
■ to see the dim black vision of a car speeding with muffled 
engine down the road toward the church. It was too dark 
to say it was Mark’s car. He had no way but to follow. 

Panting and puffing, pedalling with all his might, 
straining his eyes to see through the dark the car that was 
flying along without lights, his hair sticking endwise, his 
sleepy hungry face peering wanly through the dark, he 
plodded after. Over the Highway! He slowed down and 
1 wasn’t quite sure till he heard the chug of the engine 
ahead, and a few seconds later a red light bloomed out 
behind and he drew a new breath and pedalled on again, 
his heart throbbing wildly, the collar of his pajamas stick¬ 
ing up wildly like his hair, and one pajama leg showing 
whitely below his trouser like a tattered banner. The 
pedals cut his bare feet, and he shivered though he was 
drenched with perspiration, but he leaned far over his 
handle bars and pedalled on. 

Down past the Blue Duck Tavern, and on into the 
village of Economy the car went, not rapidly now as 
though it were running away, but slower, and steadier like 
a car on legitimate business and gravely with a necessary 
object in view. Billy’s heart began to quake. Not for 
nothing had he learned to read by signs and actions at the 
feet of the master Mark. An inner well-developed sense 
began to tell him the truth. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


222 


The car stopped in front of the Chief’s house, and a 
horn sounded softly once. Billy dismounted hastily and 
vanished into the shadows. A light appeared in the upper 
window of the house and all was still. Presently the light 
upstairs went out, the front door opened showing a dim¬ 
mer light farther in, and showing the outline of the Chief 
in flannel shirt and trousers. He came down the walk and 
spoke with the man in the car, and the car started again 
and turned in at the Chief’s drive way, going back to 
the garage. 

Billy left his wheel against a hedge and hiked noise¬ 
lessly after, slinking behind the garage door till the driver 
came out. It was Mark! 

He went down the drive, met the Chief at the gate and 
they went silently down the dark street, their rubber heels 
making no noise on the pavement. Economy was asleep 
and no wiser, but Billy’s heart was breaking. He watched 
the two and followed afar till they turned down the side 
street which he feared. He stole after and saw them enter 
the brick building that harbored the County Jail. He 
waited with shaking limbs and bleeding heart, waited, 
hoping, fearing, dreading, but not for long. The Chief 
came out alone! It wa9 as he had feared. 

Then as if the very devil himself pursued him, Billy 
turned and fled, retrieving his bicycle and whirled away 
noiselessly down the road, caring not where he was going, 
ready to hang himself, wild with despair and self- 
condemnation. 

The dark lay over the valley like a velvet mantel black 
and soft with white wreaths of mist like a lady’s veil flung 
aside and blown to the breeze, but Billy saw naught but 
red winking lights and a jail, grim and red in the midnight, 
and his friend’s white face passing in beneath the arched 
door. The bang of that door as it shut was echoing in 
his soul. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


223 


He passed the Fenner cottage. There were lights and 
moving about, but he paid no heed. He passed the Blue 
Duck Tavern, and saw the light in the kitchen where 
the cook was beginning the day’s work just as the rest of 
i the house had been given over to sleep. There was the 
smell of bacon on the air. Some one was going away on 
the milk train likely. He thought it out dully as he passed 
with the sick reeling motion of a rider whose life has sud¬ 
denly grown worthless to him. Over bottles and nails, 
and bumping over humps old trusty carried him, down the 
hill to Sabbath Valley, past the grave yard where the old 
stones peered eerily up from the dark mounds like wakened 
curious sleepers, past the church in the gray of the morning 
with a pinkness in the sky behind. Lynn lying in a sleep¬ 
less bed listening to every sound for Mark’s car to return, 
and recognizing Billy’s back wheel squeak. On down the 
familiar street, glad of the thick maples to hide him, 
i hunching up the pajama leg that would wave below in the 
rapidly increasing light, not looking toward the Carters’, 
plodding on, old trusty on the back porch; shinning up the 
water spout, tiptoeing over the shed roof, a quick spring 
in his own window and he was safe on his bed again 
i staring at the red morning light shining weirdly, cheerily 
on his wall and the rooster crowing lustily below his win¬ 
dow. Drat that rooster! What did it want to make that 
noise for ? Wasn’t there a rooster in that Bible story ? Oh, 
; no, that was Peter perhaps. He turned hastily from the 
subject and gave his attention to his toilet. Aunt Saxon 
was squeaking past his door, stopping to listen: 

“ Willie?” 

“ Well.” In a low growl, not encouragingly. 

“ Oh, Willie, you up? You better?” 

“ Nothin’ the matter with me.” 

“ Oh—” 

“ Breakfast ready? ” 




224 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


“ Oh, yes, Willie! I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” 
She squeaked on down the stairs sniffing as if from recent 
tears! Doggone those tears! Those everlasting tears! 
Why didn’t a woman know—! Now, what did he 
have to do next ? Do! Yes, he must do something. He 
couldn’t just sit here, could he? What about Stark’s 
mountain and the winking light ? What about that sissy- 
guy making up to Miss Lynn? If only Mark were here 
now he would tell him everything. Yes, he would. Mark 
would understand. But Mark was in that unspeakable 
place! Would Mark find a way to get out? He felt con¬ 
vinced he could, but would h$? From the set of his 
shoulders Billy had a strong conviction that Mark would 
not. Mark seemed to be going there for a purpose. Would 
the purpose be complete during the day sometime and 
would Mark return? Billy must do something before 
night. He wished it might be to smash the face of that 
guy Shafton. Assuredly he must do something. But first 
he must eat his breakfast. He didn’t want to, but he had 
to. Aunt Saxon would raise a riot if he didn’t. Well, 
there was ham. He could smell it. Ham for breakfast. 
Aw gee! Saxy was getting extravagant. Somehow pretty 
soon if he didn’t hang himself he must find a way to 
brighten up Saxy and pay her back for all those pink tears. 

And over on Stark’s mountain as the morning dawned 
a heavy foot climbed the haunted stairs and a blood shot 
eye framed itself at the little half moon in the front win¬ 
dow that looked out over Lone Valley toward Economy, 
and down over Sabbath Valley toward Monopoly com¬ 
manding a strategic position in the whole wild 
lovely region. 

Down in the cellar where the rats had hitherto held 
sway a soft chip, chip, chipping sound went steadily for¬ 
ward hour by hour, with spaces between and chip, chip, 
chipping again, a new kind of rat burrowing into the 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


225 


earth, over close to the edge of the long deserted scanty 
coal pile. While up under the dusty beams in a dark corner 
various old parcels were stowed away awaiting a later 
burial. From the peep hole where the eye commanded the 
situation a small black speck went whirling along the 
road to Monopoly which might be a boy on a bicycle, but 
no one came toward Stark’s mountain on that bright 
sunny morning to disturb the quiet worker in the 
dark cellar. 

Billy was on his way to Monopoly, his aunt appeased 
for the time being, with the distinct purpose of buying the 
morning paper. Not that he was given to literature, or 
perused the daily news as a habit, but an idea had struck 
him. There might be a way of finding out about Mark 
without letting any one know how he was finding out. It 
might be in the paper. Down at Monopoly no one would 
notice if he bought a County paper, and he could stop in 
the woods and read it. 

But when he reached the news stand he saw a pile of 
New York papers lying right in front, and the great black 
headlines caught his eye: 

“FATE OF LAURENCE SHAFTON 
STILL UNKNOWN.” 


“ Son of multimillionaire of New York City who was 
j kidnapped on Saturday night on his way from New York 
to a week-end house party at Beechwood, N. J., not yet 
heard from. No clew to his whereabouts. Detectives out 
j* with bloodhounds searching country. Mother in a state 
I of collapse. It is feared the bandits have fulfilled their 
threats and killed him. Father frantically offering any 
reward for news of son! ” 

Billy read no further. He clapped down a nickel and 
stuffed the paper indifferently into his pocket, almost for- 




226 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


getting in his disgust to purchase the county news. “ Aw 
Gee! ” he said to himself. “ More o’ that Judas stuff. I 
gotta get rid o’ them thirty pieces! ” 

He stepped back and bought a County paper, stood 
idly looking over its pages a moment with the letters i 
swimming before his eyes, at last discovering the column 
where the Economy “ murder ” was discussed, and with¬ 
out reading it stuffed it in the pocket on the other side and 
rode away into the sunlight. Murder! It was called 
murder! Then Dolph must be dead! The plot thickened! 
Dead! Murder! Who killed him? Surely he wasn’t re¬ 
sponsible for that at least! He was out on the road with 
Mark when it happened. He hadn’t done anything which 
in the remotest way had to do with the killing, he thanked 
his lucky stars for that. And Mark. But who did it? 
Cherry? She might be a reason for what Mark did 
last night. 

At a turn in the road where a little grove began he got 
off his wheel and seeking a sheltered spot dropped down 
under a tree to read his papers. His quick eye searched 
through the County paper first for the sensational account 
of the murder, and a gray look settled over his pug coun¬ 
tenance as he read. So might a mother have regarded 
her child in deep trouble, or a lover his beloved. Billy’s 
spirit was bowed to the depths. When he had de¬ 
voured every word he flung the paper aside wrathfully, 
and sat up with a kind of hopeless gesture 'of his hard 
young hands. “ Aw Gee! ” he said aloud, and suddenly he 
felt a great wet blob rolling down his freckled cheek. He 
smashed it across into his hair with a quick slash of his 
dirty hand as if it had been a mosquito annoying him, and 
lest the other eye might be meditating a like trick he gave 
that a vicious dab and hauled out the other paper, more as 
a matter of form than because he had a deep interest in 
it. All through the description of those wonderful 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


227 


Shafton jewels, and the mystery that surrounded the dis¬ 
appearance of the popular young man, Billy could see the 
word “ murder ” dancing like little black devils in and out 
among the letters. The paragraph about Mrs. Shafton’s 
collapse held him briefly: 

“ Aw, gee! ” he could see pink tears everywhere. He 
i supposed he ought to do something about that. For all the 
world like Aunt Saxon! He seemed to sense her youth 
through the printed words as he had once sensed Mrs. 
Carter’s. He saw her back in school, pretty and little. 
Rich women were always pretty and little to his 
mind, pretty and little and helpless and always cry¬ 
ing. It was then that the thought was born that 
made him look off to the hills and ponder with drawn 
brows and anxious mein. He took it back to his home 
with him and sat moodily staring at the lilac bushes, and 
gave Aunt Saxon another bad day wondering what had 
come to Willie. She would actually have been glad to 
hear him say: “ I gotta beat it! I gotta date with 

tha fellas! ” 

That evening the rumor crept back to Sabbath Valley 
from who knows where that Dolph was dead and Mark 
I Carter had run away! 




XXI 


Tuesday morning Lynn slipped down to Carters with 
a little cake she had made all white frosting and sprinkles 
of nuts. Her face was white but brave with a smile, and 
she said her mother wanted to know how Mrs. Carter’s 
neuralgia was getting on. 

But Mrs. Carter was the only one in the village 
perhaps who had not heard the rumor, and she was 
gracious and pleased and said she wished Mark was home, 
he loved nut cake so much. 

“ You know he was called back to New York suddenly 
last night didn’t you ? ” she said. “ He felt real sorry to 
leave so soon, but his partner wired him there was some¬ 
thing he must see to himself, and he just took his car and 
went right away as soon as he got back from taking that 
girl home. He hoped he’d get back again soon though. 
Say, who was that girl ? Wasn’t she kind of queer to ask 
Mark to take her home ? Seems somehow girls are getting 
a little forward these days. I know you’d never do a thing 
like that with a perfect stranger, Marilyn.” 

The girl only stayed a few minutes, and went home 
with a braver heart. At least Mark was protecting his 
mother. He had not changed entirely. He wouldn’t let 
her suffer! But what was he doing? Oughtn’t he to be told 
what rumors were going around about him? But how 
could it be done? Her father? Perhaps. She shrank from 
that, Mark had so withdrawn from them, he might take 
it as an interference. Billy? Ah, yes, Billy! 

But Billy did not appear anywhere, and when she got 
back she found that Shafton’s car had been finished and 
was ready to drive, and he wanted her to take a little 
spin with him to try it, he said. He warily invited her 
228 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


229 


mother to go along, for he saw by her face that she was 
going to decline, and the mother watching her daughter’s 
white face said: “ Yes, Marilyn we will go. It will do 
you good. You have been housed up here ever since you 
came home. ,, And there was nothing for the girl to do 
but succumb or seem exceedingly rude. She was not by 
nature rude, so she went. 

As they drove by the Saxon cottage Billy was just 
coming out, and he stared glumly at the three and hardly 
acknowledged Marilyn’s greeting. He stared after 
! them scowling. 

“ Hell! ” said Billy aloud, regardless of Aunt Saxon 
at the front window, “ Yes Hell! ” and he realized the 
: meaning of his epithet far better than the young man he 
was staring after had the first night he had used it in 
Sabbath Valley. 

“ What was that you said Willie ? ” called Aunt 
Saxon’s anxious voice. 

“ Aw, nothing! ” said Billy, and slammed out the gate, ‘ 
i his wheel by his side. “ Now! Something had to be done. 

1 He couldn’t have that going on. He was hurt at Mrs. 
Severn. She ought to take better care of her daughter! 
In sullen despair he mounted and rode away to work out 
his problem. It was certain he couldn’t do anything with 
: Saxy snivelling round. And something had to be done! 

Billy managed to get around the country quite a little 
) that morning. He rode up to Economy and learned that 
Mr. Fenner, the tailor, was sick, had been taken two nights 
ago, was delirious and had to have two men to hold him 
down. He thought everybody was an enemy and tried to 
choke them all. He rode past the jail but saw nothing 
though he circled the block three times. The Chief stood 
out in front talking with three strange men. Billy sized 
them up for detectives. When there was nothing further 
to be gained in Economy he turned his steed toward 




230 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Pleasant Valley and took in a little underground telephone 
communication between a very badly scared Pat and a 
very angry Sam at some unknown point at the end of the 
wire. It was then, lying hidden in the thick undergrowth, 
that a possible solution of his difficulties occurred 
to him, a form of noble self sacrifice that might in part 
do penance for his guilt. Folded safely in his inner pocket 
was the thirty pieces of silver, the blood money, the price of 
Mark Carter’s freedom and good name. If he had not 
taken that he might have fixd this Pat so he would be a 
witness to Mark’s alibi. But according to the code he had 
been taught it would not be honorable to squeal on some¬ 
body whose money he had taken. It wasn’t square. It 
wasn’t honorable. It was yella, and yella, he would not be 
if the sky fell. It was all the religion he had as yet, not 
to be “ yella.” It stood for all the fineness of his soul. But 
he had reasoned within himself that if in some way he 
could get that money back to Pat, then he would be free 
from obligation. Then he could somehow manage to put 
Pat where he would have to tell the right thing to save 
Mark. Just how it could be done he wasn’t sure, but that 
was another question. 

When Pat had trundled away to the train he rolled him¬ 
self out from ambush and went on his way across Lone 
Valley by a little tree-shaded path he knew that cut straight 
over to Stark mountain. 

Not a ripple of a leaf showed above him as he passed 
straight up the mountain to the old house, for the watchful 
eye looking out to see. Billy was a great deal like an 
Indian in his goings and comings, and Billy was wary. 
Had he not seen the winking light ? Billy was taking no 
chances. Smoothly folded in his hip pocket he carried a 
leaf of the New York paper wherein was offered a large 
reward for information concerning jewels and bonds and 
other property taken from the Shafton country home on 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


231 


pretense of setting free the son. Also there was a stu¬ 
pendous reward offered for information concerning the 
son, and Billy’s big thought as he crept along under the 
trees with all the stealth of a wild thing, was that here was 
another thirty pieces of silver multiplied many times, and 
he wasn't going to take it! He could, but he wouldn't! 
He was going to give these folks the information they 
wanted, but he wasn’t going to get the benefit of it. That 
was going to be his punishment. He had been in hell long 
enough, and he was going to try to pull himself out of it 
by his good works. And he would do it in such a way that 
there woudn’t be any chance of the reward being pressed 
upon him. He would just fix it so that nobody would par¬ 
ticularly know he had anything to do with the clews. 
That was Billy all over. He never did a thing half way. 
But first he must find out if there was anybody about the 
old house. He couldn’t get away from those three winks 
he had seen. 

So, feeling almost relieved for a moment Billy left his 
wheel on guard and crept around to his usual approach at 
the back before he came out in the open. And then he crept 
cautiously to the cellar window where he had first entered 
the house. He gripped Pat’s old gun with one hand in 
his pocket, and slid along like a young snake, taking pre¬ 
caution not to appear before the cellar window lest his 
shadow should fall inside. He flattened himself at last 
upon the grass a noticeless heap of gray khaki trousers and 
brown flannel shirt close against the house. One would 
have to lean far out of a window to see him, and there he 
lay and listened awhile. And presently from the depths 
beyond that grated window he heard a little scratch, 
scratch, scratch, tap, tap, tap, scratch, tap, scratch, tap, 
steadily, on for sometime like his heart beats, till he wasn’t 
sure he was hearing it at all, and thought it might be the 
blood pounding through his ears, so strange and uncanny 


232 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


it seemed. Then, all at once there came a puff, as if a long 
breath had been drawn, like one lifting a heavy weight, 
and then a dull thud. A brief silence and more scratching 
in soft earth now. 

He listened for perhaps an hour, and once a footstep 
grated on the cement floor, and coals rattled down as if 
they were disturbed. Once too a soft chirrup from up 
above like the call of a wood bird, only strangely human 
and the sounds in the cellar ceased altogether, till another 
weird note sounded and they began again. 

When he was satisfied with his investigations he began 
slowly to back away from his position, lifting each atom 
of muscle slowly one at a time till his going must have been 
something like the motion picture of a bud unfolding, and 
yet as silent as the flower grows he faded away from 
that cellar window back into the green and no one was the 
wiser. An hour later the watchful eye at the little half 
moon opening in the shutter might have seen a little black 
speck like a spider whizzing along on the Highroad and 
turning down toward Sabbath Valley, but it never would 
have looked as if it came from Stark mountain, for it was 
headed straight from Lone Valley. Billy was going 
home to get cleaned up and make a visit to the parsonage. 
If that guy was still there he’d see how quick he would 
leave! If there wasn’t one way to make him go there was 
another, and Billy felt that he held the trick. 

But as fate would have it Billy did not have to get 
cleaned up, for Miss Severn stood on the front porch 
looking off toward the mountains with that wistful ex¬ 
pression of hers that made him want to laugh and cry and 
run errands for her anywhere just to serve her and make 
her smile, and she waved her hand at Billy, and ran down 
to the gate to speak to him. 

“ Billy, I want to ask you,—If you were to see Mark 
Carter—of course you mightn’t, but then you might— 






THE CITY OF FIRE 


233 


you’ll let him know that we are of course his friends, and 
that anything he wants done, if he’ll just let us know—” 

“ Sure! ” said Billy lighting off his wheel with a down¬ 
ward glance at his dirty self, all leaves and dust and grime, 
“ Sure, he’d know that anyhow.” 

“ Well, Billy, I know he would, but I mean, I thought 
perhaps you might find something we could do, —some¬ 
thing maybe without letting him know. He’s very proud 
about asking any help you, know, and he wouldn’t want to 
bother us. You may discover something he—needs—or 
wants done—while—he is away—and maybe we could 
help him out, Father or Mother or I. You’ll remember, 
won’t you Billy? ” 

“ Sure!” said Billy again feeling the warm glow of her 
friendliness and loyalty to Mark, and digging his toes into 
the turf embarrassedly. Then he looked up casually as he 
was about to leave: 

“ Say is there a guy here named Shafton? Man from 
n’Yark? ” 

“ Why, yes,” said Lynn looking at him curiously, 
" Did you want to see him ? ” 

“ Well, if he’s round I might. I got a message 
for him.” 

She looked at him keenly: 

“ You haven’t seen Mark to-day, have you, Billy? ” 

“ Aw, naw, ’taint from him,” he grinned reassuringly, 
“ He’s away just now. But I might see him soon ya know, 
ur hear from him.” 

Lynn’s face cleared. “ Yes, of course. His mother 
told me he was suddenly called back to New York.” 

“ Yep. That’s right!” said Billy as if he knew all 
about it, and pulled off his old cap with a glorious wave as 
she turned to call the stranger. 

Billy dropped his wheel at the curb and approached 
the steps as he saw Shafton coming slowly out leaning on 



234 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


a cane. He rustled the folded newspaper out from his 
pocket with one hand and shook it open as only a boy’s 
sleight of hand can do, wafting it in front of the aston¬ 
ished Laurie, and saying with an impudent swag, 

“Say, z’your name Shafton? Well, see that ? Why 
don’t you beat it home ? Your ma is about t’croke, an’ yer 
dad has put up about all his dough, an’ you better rustle 
back to where you come from an’ tell ’em not to b’leeve all 
the bunk that’s handed out to ’em! Good night! They 
must need a nurse! ” 

Laurie paused in the act of lighting one of his in¬ 
terminable cigarettes with which he supplied the lack of a 
stronger stimulant, and stared at the boy curiously, then 
stared at the paper he held in his hand with the flaring 
headlines, and reaching out his hand for it began to laugh: 

“ Well, upon my word, Kid, where’d you get this? If 
that isn’t a joke! I wonder if Opal’s seen it. Miss Severn, 
come here! See what a joke! I’m kidnapped! Did you 
ever hear the like? Look at the flowery sentences. It’s 
almost like reading one’s own obituary, isn’t it ? ” 

Marilyn, glancing over his shoulder at the headlines, 
took in the import of it instantly. “ I should think you’d 
want to telephone your mother at once. How she must 
have suffered! ” she said. 

Laurie somewhat sobered agreed that it would be a 
good idea: 

“ The mater’s a good old scout,” he said lightly, “ She’s 
always helping me out of scrapes, but this is one too many 
to give up her emeralds, the Shafton Emeralds! Gosh 
but dad will be mad about them! And Oh, say, call that 
boy back will you? I want to give him a dollar! ” 

But Billy had faded down the road with mortal indig¬ 
nation in his breast. To think of giving up a ten thousand 
dollar reward and having a dollar flung at you! It seemed 
to measure the very depth of the shame to which he 
had descended. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


235 


The Severns came a few paces out of their indifference 
to this self-imposed guest and gathered around the sheet 
of newspaper while Laurie held an intensive conversation 
with his family beginning with several servants who were 
too excited at first to identify his voice. 

But at last he hung up the receiver and turned 
toward them: 

“Well, I guess there's nothing for it but for me to 
pull out. The mater doesn’t think she’ll be satisfied till 
she has her hands on me. Besides I’ve got to get things 
started about those jewels. Dad and mother are too 
excited to know what they’re about. I declare, it’s like 
being dead and seeing how they feel about it.” 

There was a boyish eager look about the young man’s 
face that made him for the first time seem rather loveable, 
Mrs. Severn thought. The mother in her rose to appre¬ 
ciation. Lynn was so glad that he was going away that 
she was almost friendly during lunch. And when the 
young man was about to depart he went to Mr. Severn’s 
study and wrote a check for five hundred dollars: 

“Just in appreciation of your kindness,” he said as 
he held it out to the minister. 

The minister looked amused but did not offer to 
take it: 

“ That’s all right,” he said pleasantly, “ We don’t keep 
boarders you know. You were welcome to what we could 
give you.” 

“ But, my dear sir, I couldn’t think of not remuner¬ 
ating you,” declared Laurie. 

“And I couldn’t think of taking it,” smiled the 
minister. 

“ Well, then take it for your poor people,” he insisted. 

“From what Lynn tells me you have more of those 
than we have,” answered the minister. 

The young man looked annoyed: 

“Well, then take it for something for your church, 


236 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


another bell or something, anything you’re interested in.” 

“ I can give you an address of a young missionary out 
West who is having a hard time of it, and has a very 
needy parish,” said the minister taking out his fountain 
pen and writing the address on a card, “ but I should pre¬ 
fer that you would send it to him yourself. He wouldn’t 
take it from me, but if you’d send it he’ll write and tell you 
what he does with it, and he’ll tell me too, so it will give 
pleasure all around. He’s a game young chap, and he’s 
given his life. You couldn’t help but like him.” 

Laurie had to be content with this, though he felt 
annoyed at having to write a letter to a missionary. He 
felt he shouldn’t know how to address him. 

“ I’ll send it to-night when I get home,” he declared, 
“ or no, I’ll send it now,” and he sat down at the minister’s 
desk, and scribbled a note. It read: “ Your friend Severn 
won’t take anything himself for kindness to me, so he’s 
letting me send you this for your work. Here’s wishing 
you good luck.” This he signed and handed to the min¬ 
ister with a relieved air as if to say: “There! 
That’s that! ” 

“ You see,” said Laurie getting up and taking his hat 
again, “ I want to come back here again and see your 
daughter. I may as well tell you I’m crazy about 
your daughter.” 

“ I see,” said the minister gravely, albeit with a twinkle 
in his eye, “ The fact is I’m somewhat crazy about her 
myself. But in all kindness I may as well tell you that 
you’ll be wasting your time. She isn’t your kind 
you know.” 

“Oh, well,” said Laurie with an assured shrug, “That’s 
all right if I don’t mind, isn’t it?” 

“ Well, no,” said the minister smiling broadly now, 
“ You forget that she might mind, you know.” 

“ I don’t get you,” said Laurie looking puzzled as he 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


237 


fitted on his immaculate driving glove, “ She might mind, 
what do you mean ? ” 

‘ I mean that my daughter minds very much indeed 
whether her men friends ask in a certain tone of voice for 
something to drink at midnight, and use language such as 
you used when you first arrived here, smoke continual 
cigarettes, and have friends like the young woman who 
visited you last Sunday.” 

“ Oh! I see! ” laughed Laurie thoroughly amused, 
“ Well, after all, one doesn’t have to keep on doing all 
those things you know—if it were worth one’s while to 
change them.” 

“ I’m afraid,” said the minister still amused, “ that 
it would have to be worth your while to change before 
she would even consider you as a possibility. She hap¬ 
pens to have a few ideas about what it takes to make a 
man, her ideal man, you know.” 

Laurie smiled gaily : 

“ Perhaps I can change those ideas.” 

“ Help yourself young man. You’ll find it a task, I 
assure you.” 

“ Well, I’m coming back, anyway.” 

“ We shall welcome you,” said the minister politely, 
but not at all gladly, and Laurie departed without his usual 
complacency, assuring the minister that he had found 
Sabbath Valley the garden spot of the world and meant to 
return soon and often. 

Billy watched him from the graveyard enclosure 
whither he had retired to write a letter, and he made a face 
and wasted a gesture of defiance after his departing car. 
So much Billy felt he had accomplished toward reparation. 
He was now attempting a third act. 

On the smooth end of the old stone he had a newspaper 
spread, and upon that a sheet of letter paper which he had 
extracted from Aunt Saxon’s ancient box in the old seere- 


238 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


tary in the corner of the kitchen. Kneeling beside the 
stone he carefully inscribed the following words: 

“ Yoors to cummand, 

B. Gaston.” 

He folded the paper with his smudgy fingers, and 
stuffed it into a soiled envelope on which he wrote Mark’s 
name, and as he had seen Lynn write down in the corner 
of a note that he had taken to Monopoly for her, ‘‘Kindness 
of Billy,” so he wrote “ Kindnus of Cheef.” Then he 
mounted his wheel and rode to Economy. After some 
apparently aimless riding he brought up at the back of the 
Chief’s garage where he applied a canny eye to a crack and 
ascertained just how many and what cars were inside. He 
then rode straight to the bank where he was pretty sure 
the Chief would be standing near the steps at this hour. 
Waiting a time of leisure he handed him the envelope: 

“ Say, Chief, c’n I trouble you to d’liver that? ” 

The Chief looked at the envelope and then at Billy and 
opened his lips to speak, but Billy forestalled him: 

“ I know you don’t know where he is at all now, Chief, 
o’ course, but I just thought you might happen to meet up 
with him sometime soon. That’s all right, Chief. Thank 
ya.” Billy ended with a knowing wink. 

The Chief turned the envelope over, noted that it was 
unsealed, grinned back and put it in his pocket. They had 
been good friends, these two, for several years, ever since 
Billy had been caught bearing the penalty for another 
boy’s misdemeanor. 

“That’s all right Billy,” said the Chief affably, “I won’t 
forget it—if I see him! Seen anything more of those 
automobile thieves ? ” 

“ Nope,” said Billy sadly, “ but I gotta line on ’em. 
’f’l find anythin’ more I’ll callyaup! ” 

“Do!” said the Chief cordially, and the interview 
was closed. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


239 


Billy bought some cakes at the bakery with ten cents 
he had earned running an errand from the grocery that 
morning, and departed on important business. He had 
definitely decided to give up his thirty pieces of silver. No 
more blood money for him. His world was upside down 
and all he loved were suffering, and all because he had been 
mercenary. The only way to put things right was to get 
rid of any gain that might accrue to himself. Then he 
would be in a position to do something. And Pat was 
his first object now. He meant to give back the money 
to Pat! He had thought it all out, and he meant to waste 
no time in getting things straight. 

He went to the Economy post office and on the back 
of a circular that he found in the waste basket he wrote 
another note: 

“ Pat. This is blood money an’ I can’t kep it. I didunt 
no when I undertuk the job wot kind of a job it was. 
Thers only one way fur yoo to kep yur hid saf, an that is to 
tel the trooth abot wot hapuned. If yoo ar wiling to tel 
the trooth put a leter heer say in so. If yoo dont I am 
havin’ you watshed an you will los yoor job an likely be 
hanged. We are arumd so be keerful. This aint yella. 
This is rite. 

THE KID.” 

It was a long job and he was tired when it was finished, 
for his days at school had been full of so many other things 
besides lessons that literary efforts were always strenuous 
for him. When he had finished he went out and carried 
three parcels for the meat market, receiving in return 
thirty cents, which exactly made up the sum he had spent 
from his tainted money. With this wrapped bunglingly 
in his note he proceeded to ambush near Pleasant Valley. 
He had other fish to fry, but not till dark. Meantime, if 
that underground telephone was being used at other times 
in the day he wanted to know it, 


240 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


He placed the note and money obviously before the 
little hidden telephone from which he had cleared the 
leaves and rubbish that hid it, and then retired to cover 
where he settled himself comfortably. He knew Pat 
would be busy till the two evening trains had arrived, after 
that if he did not come there would likely be no calls before 
morning again, and he could go on his way. With a pleas¬ 
ant snack of sugar cookies and cream puffs he lay back 
and closed his eyes, glad of this brief respite from his life 
of care and perplexity. Of course he couldn’t get away 
from his thoughts, but what a pleasant place this was, with 
the scent of sassafras and winter green all around him, 
and the meadow lark high in the air somewhere. There 
were bees in the wild honeysuckle not far away. He could 
hear their lazy drone. It would be nice to be a bee and fly, 
fly away from everything. Did bees care about things? 
Did they have troubles, and love folks and lose ’em? When 
a bee died did the other bees care ? Aw Gee! Mark, in— 
j— No! He wouldn’t say it! Mark was in New York! 
Yes, of course he was. It would all come right some day. 
He would catch those crooks and put ’em in jail—no, first 
he’d use ’em to clear Mark. When he got done here he was 
going up to watch the old house and find out about that 
noise, and he’d see whether Link and Shorty would put 
anything more over! Link and Shorty and Pat, and that 
sissy Shafton and Sam, whoever Sam was! They were all 
his enemies! If Mark were only here how they would go 
to that old haunted house together and work this thing 
out. He ought to have told Mark everything. Fool! Just 
to save his own hide! Just to keep Mark from blaming 
him! Well, he was done saving himself or getting ill 
gotten gains. Him for honesty for the rest of his life. 

The bees droned on and the lark grew fainter and 
fainter. Billy’s eyes drooped closer shut, his long curling 
lashes lay on his freckled cheeks the way they lay some- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


241 


times when Aunt Saxon came to watch him. That 
adorable sweep of lash that all mothers of boys know, that 
air of dignity and innocence that makes you forget the day 
and its doings and undoings and think only, this is a man 
child, a wonderful creature of God, beloved and strong, a 
gift of heaven, a wonder in daytime, a creature to be 
afraid of sometimes, but weak in sleep, adorable! 

Billy slept. 

The afternoon train lumbered in with two freight 
cars behind, and a lot of crates and boxes to manipulate, 
but Billy slept. The five o’clock train slid in and the 
evening express with its toll of guests for the Lake Hotel 
who hustled off wearily, cheerily, and on to the little Lake 
I train that stood with an expectant insolent air like a neces- 
j sary evil waiting for a tip. The two trains champed and 
' puffed and finally scampered away, leaving echoes all 
along the valley, and a red stream of sun down the track 
behind them from a sky aflame in the west preparing for 
a brilliant sunset. The red fingers of the sun touched the 
freckles on Billy’s cheek lightly as if to warn him that the 
time had come. The shutters slammed on at the little sta¬ 
tion. The agent climbed the hill to his shack among the 
pines. Pat came out the door and stood on the platform 
looking down the valley, waiting for the agent to get out 
of sight. 

And Billy slept on! 


16 



XXII 


Three days later a pall hung over Sabbath Valley. 
The coroner’s inquest had brought in a verdict of murder, 
and the day of the hearing had been set. Mark Carter 
was to be tried for murder—was wanted for murder as 
Elder Harricutt put it. It was out now and everybody 
knew it but Mrs. Carter, who went serenely on her way 
getting her regular letters from Mark postmarked New 
York and telling of little happenings that were vague 
but pleasant and sounded so like Mark, so comforting and 
son like. So strangely tender and comforting and more 
in detail than Mark’s letters had been wont to be. She 
thought to herself that he was growing up at last. He spoke 
of a time when he and she would have a nice home together 
somewhere, some new place where he would get into 
business and make a lot of money. Would she like that? 
And once he told her he was afraid he hadn’t been a very 
good son to her, but sometime he would try to make it up 
to her, and she cried over that letter for sheer joy. But 
all the rest of the town knew that Mark was suspected of 
murder, and most of them thought he had run away and 
nobody could find him. The county papers hinted that 
there were to be strange revelations when the time of the 
trial came, but nothing definite seemed to come out from 
day to day more than had been said at first, and there was 
a strange lack of any mention of Mark in connection with 
it after the first day. 

Lynn Severn went about the house quiet and white, her 
face looking like an angel’s prayer, one continual petition, 
but she was sweet and patient, and ready to do anything 
for anybody. Work seemed to be her only respite from 
the gnawing horror of her thoughts. To know that the 
242 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


243 


whole village believed that Mark, her life long playmate, 
had been guilty of a crime so heinous was so appalling that 
sometimes she just stood at the window and laughed out 
into the sunshine at the crazy idea of it. It simply could not 
be. Mark, who had always been so gentle and tender for 
every living thing, so chivalrous, so ready to help! To 
think of Mark killing anyone! And yet, they might have 
needed killing. At least, of course she didn’t mean that, 
but there were circumstances under which she could 
imagine almost anyone doing a deed—well what was the 
use, there was no way to excuse or explain a thing she 
didn’t understand, and she could just do nothing but not 
believe any of it until she knew. She would trust in God, 
and yes, she would trust in Mark as she always had done, 
at least until she had his own word that he was not trust- 
able. That haughty withdrawing of himself on Sunday 
night and his “ I am not worthy ” meant nothing to her 
now when it came trailing across her consciousness. It 
only seemed one more proof of his tender conscience, his 
care for her reputation. He had known then what they 
were saying about him, he must have known the day before 
that there was something that put him in a position so that 
he felt it was not good for her reputation to be his friend. 
He had withdrawn to protect her. That was the way 
she explained it to her heart, while yet beneath it all was 
the deep down hurt that he had not trusted her, and let 
her be his friend in trouble as well as when all was well. 

She had written him a little note, not too intimate, just 
as a sister might have written, expressing her deep trust, 
and her sincere desire to stand by and help in any time of 
need. In it she begged him to think her worthy of sharing 
his trouble as he used to share his happiness, and to 
know always that she was his friend whatever came. She 
had read it over and over to be sure she was not over¬ 
stepping her womanly right to say these things, and had 


244 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


prayed about it a great deal. But when it came to sending 
it she did not know his New York address. He had 
been strangely silent during the last few months and had 
not written her. She did not want to ask his mother. So 
she planned to find it out through Billy. But Billy did 
not come. It had been two days since Billy had been 
around, or was it three ? She was standing at the window 
looking down the road toward the Saxon cottage and won¬ 
dering if she wanted to go down and hunt for Billy when 
she saw Miss Saxon coming up the street and turning in 
at the gate, and her face looked wan and crumpled like 
an old rose that had been crushed and left on the parlor 
floor all night. 

She turned from the window and hurried down: 

“Miss Marilyn,” Aunt Saxon greeted her with a gush 
of tears, “ I don’t know what to do. Billy’s away! He 
hasn’t been home for three days and three nights! His 
bed ain’t been touched. He never did that before except 
that last time when he stayed out to help Mark Carter that 
time on the mountain with that sick man, and I can’t think 
what’s the matter. I went to Miz Carter’s, but she ain’t 
seen him, and she says Mark’s up to his business in New 
York, so Billy can’t be with him, and I just know he’s 
kilt, Miss Marilyn. I just know he’s kilt. I dreamt of a 
shroud night before last and I can’t help thinkin’ he’s kilt!” 
and the tears poured down the tired little face pitifully. 

Marilyn drew her tenderly into the house and made her 
sit down by the cool window, brought a palm leaf fan and 
a footstool, and told Naomi to make some iced orangeade. 
Then she called her mother and went and sat down by the 
poor little creature who now that somebody else was going 
to do something about it had subsided into her chair with 
relief born of exhaustion. She had not slept for three 
nights and two of those days she had washed all day. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


24 5 


“ Now, Miss Saxon, dear, you’re not to worry,” said 
the girl taking the fan and waving it gently back and forth, 
touching the work-worn hand tenderly with her other 
hand, “ Billy is not dead, I’m sure! Oh, Fm quite sure! I 
think somehow it would be hard to kill Billy. He has ways 
of keeping alive that most of us don’t enjoy. He is strong 
and young and sharp as a needle. No one can put anything 
over on Billy, and I have somehow a feeling, Miss Saxon 
that Billy is off somewhere doing something very im- 
| portant for somebody. He is that way you know. He 
does nice unusual things that nobody else would think of 
doing, and I just expect you’ll find out some day that Billy 
| has been doing one of those. There’s that man on the 
mountain, for instance. He might be still very sick, and 
it would be just like Billy to stay and see to him. Maybe 
there isn’t anybody else around to do it, and now that 
Mark has gone he would feel responsible about it. Of 
course he ought to have told you before he went, but he 
wouldn’t likely have expected to stay long, and then 
boys don’t think. They don’t realize how hard it it is not 
to understand—! ” 

“ Thas’so, Miss Marilyn,” sniffed Miss Saxon, “ He 
don’t hardly ever think. But he mighta phomed.” 

“ Well, it isn’t likely they have phones on the mountain, 
and you haven’t any, have you ? How could he ? ” 

“ He mighta phomed to you.” 

“Yes, he might, but you know how boys are, he 
wouldn’t want to bother anybody. And if the man was in 
a lonely cabin somewhere he couldn’t get to a phone.” 

“ Thas’so too. Oh, Miss Marilyn, you always do think 
up comfort. You’re just like your ma and pa. But Billy, 
he’s been so kinda peaked lately, so sorta gentle, and then 
again sorta crazy like, just like his mother useta be ’fore 
her husband left her. I couldn’t help worryin’.” 

“ Well, now, Miss Saxon, I’ll inquire around all I can 




246 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


without rousing any suspicion. You know Billy would 
hate that.” 

“ Oh, I know he would,” flushed the little woman 
nervously. 

“ So I’ll just ask the boys if they know where he is 
and where they saw him last, and don’t you worry. I’ll 
tell them I have a message for him you know, and you just 
stop crying and rest easy and don’t tell a soul yet till I look 
around. Here comes mother. She’ll help you better than 
I can.” 

Mrs. Severn in a cool white dimity came quietly into 
the room, bringing a restful calm with her, and while Lynn 
was out on her errand of mercy she slipped a strong arm 
around the other woman’s waist and had her down on her 
knees in the alcove behind the curtains, and had committed 
the whole matter to a loving Heavenly Father, Billy and 
the tired little Aunt, and all the little details of life that 
harrow so on a burdened soul; and somehow when they 
rose the day was cooler, and life looked more possible to 
poor Aunt Saxon. 

Presently came Lynn, brightly. She had seen the boys. 
They had met Billy in Economy day before yesterday. He 
had said he had a job, he didn’t know how long it would 
last, and he might not be able to come to base ball practice. 
He told them who to put in his place till he got back. 

“ There, now, Miss Saxon, you go home and lie down 
and take a good sleep. You’ve put this whole thing in the 
hands of the Lord, now don’t take it out again. Just trust 
Him. Billy’ll come back safe and sound, and there’ll be 
some good reason for it,” said Mrs. Severn. And Aunt 
Saxon, smiling wistfully, shyly apologetic for her foolish¬ 
ness, greatly cheered and comforted, went. But Lynn went 
up to her little white room and prayed earnestly, adding 
Billy to her prayer for Mark. Where was Billy Gaston? 

When Miss Saxon went home she found a letter in the 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


247 


letter box out by the gate addressed to Billy. This set her 
heart to palpitating again and she almost lost her faith 
in prayer and took to her own worries once more. But she 
carried the letter in and held it up to the window, trying 
her best to make out anything written therein. She justi¬ 
fied this to her conscience by saying that it might give a 
clue to Billy’s whereabouts. Billy never got letters. Maybe, 
it might be from his long lost father, though they had all 
reason to believe him dead. Or maybe—Oh, what if 
Albert Gaston had come back and kidnapped Billy! The 
thought was too awful. She dropped right down in the 
kitchen where she stood by the old patchwork rocking chair 
that always stood handy in the window when she wanted to 
peel potatoes, and prayed: “ Oh, God, don’t let it be! 

Don’t bring that bad man back to this world again! Take 
care of my Billy and bring him back to me, Amen! ” Over 
and over again she prayed, and it seemed to comfort her. 
Then she rose, and put the tea kettle on and carefully 
steamed open the letter. She had not lost all hope when 
she took time to steam it open in place of tearing it, for 
she was still worse afraid that Billy might return and scold 
her for meddling with his precious letter, then she was 
afraid he would not return. While the steam was gather¬ 
ing she tried to justify herself in Billy’s eyes for opening 
it at all. After her prayer it seemed a sort of desecration. 
So the kettle had almost boiled away before she mustered 
courage to hold the envelope over the steam, and while she 
did this she noticed for the first time significantly that 
the postmark was New York. Perhaps it was from Mark. 
Then Billy was not with Mark! But perhaps the letter 
would tell. 

So she opened the flap very carefully, and pulled out 
the single sheet of paper, stepping nearer the window to 
read it in the late afternoon light. It read: “ Dear Kid, 
shut your mouth and saw wood. Buddy.” That was all. 




248 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Aunt Saxon lifted frightened eyes and stared at the 
lilac bush outside the window, the water spout where Billy 
often shinned up and down, the old apple tree that he would 
climb before he was large enough to be trusted, and then 
she read the letter again. But it meant nothing to her. It 
seemed a horrible riddle. She took a pencil and a scrap of 
paper and quickly transcribed the mysterious words, omit¬ 
ting not even the punctuation, and then hurriedly returned 
the letter to its envelope, clapped the flap down and held it 
tight. When it was dry she put the letter up in plain sight 
on the top of the old secretary where Billy could find it at 
once when he came in. She was taking no chances on Billy 
finding her opening his mail. It never had happened be¬ 
fore, because Billy never had had a letter before, 
except notices about base ball and athletic association, 
but she meant it never should happen. She knew instinc¬ 
tively that if it ever did she would lose Billy, if not 
immediately, then surely eventually, for Billy resented 
above all things interference. Then Aunt Saxon sat 
down to study the transcription. But after a long and 
thorough perusal she folded it carefully and pinned it in 
her bosom. But she went more cheerily down to the 
market to get something for supper. Billy might come 
any time now. His letter was here, and he would surely 
come home to get his letter. 

Down at the store she met Marilyn, who told her she 
looked better already, and the poor soul, never able to hold 
her tongue, had to tell the girl about the letter. 

“ He’s had a letter,” she said brightening, “ about a 
job I guess. It was there when I got back. It’s sawing 
wood. The letter doesn’t have any head. It just says 
about sawing wood. I ’spose that’s where he is, but he 
ought to have let me know. He was afraid I’d make a 
fuss about it, I always do. I’m afraid of those big saws 





THE CITY OF FIRE 


249 


they use. He’s so careless. But he was set on a grown¬ 
up job. I couldn’t get him to paste labels on cans at the 
factory, he said it was too much of a kid game.” 

“ Oh,” said Marilyn, wondering, “ Sawing wood. 
Well, that’s where he is of course, and it’s good healthy 
work. I wouldn’t worry. Billy is pretty careful I think. 
He’ll take care of himself.” 

But to herself on the way home she said: “ How queer 
for Billy to go off sawing wood just now! It doesn’t seem 
like him. They can’t be so hard up. There must be some¬ 
thing behind it all I hope I didn’t start anything asking 
him to stick by Mark! Oh, where is Mark ? ” 

That afternoon Marilyn took a horseback ride, and 
touched all the points she knew where there might be 
likely to be woodsawing going on, but no Billy was on the 
job anywhere. 

As she rode home through Economy she saw Mrs. 
Fenner scuttling down a side street from the jail, and 
hurrying into her own side gate like a little fright¬ 
ened lizard. 

Marilyn came back home heart sick and sad, and took 
refuge in the church and her bells. At least she could call 
to Billy across the hills somewhere by playing the songs 
he loved the best. And perhaps their echoes would some¬ 
how cross the miles to Mark too, by that strange mys¬ 
terious power that spirit can reach to spirit across space or 
years or even estrangement, and draw the thoughts irre¬ 
sistibly. So she sat at the organ and played her heart out, 
ringing all the old sweet songs that Mark used to love 
when the bells first were new and she was learning to play 
them; Highland Laddie, Bonnie Bonnie Warld, Mavour- 
neen, Kentucky Home, songs that she had kept fresh in 
her heart and sometimes played for Billy now and then. 
And then the old hymns. Did they echo far enough to 





250 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


reach him where he had gone, Mark sitting alone in his 
inferno ? Billy holding his breath and trying to find a way 
out of his ? Did they hear those bells calling? 

u Oh, God our help in ages past, 

Our hope for years to come! 

Our refuge from the stormy blast, 

And our eternal home!" 

The soul of the girl in the little dusky church went up 
in a prayer with the bells. 

“ Before the hills in order stood, 

Or earth received her frame, 

From everlasting Thou art God I 
A thousand years the same!" 

Every mortal in the village knew the words, and in 
kitchens now, preparing savory suppers, or down in the 
mills and factories, or out on the street coming home, they 
were humming them, or repeating them over in their 
hearts. The bells did not ring the melody alone. The 
message was well known and came to every heart. Mark 
and Billy knew them too. Perhaps by telepathy the tune 
would travel to their minds and bring their words along: 

“ Under the shadow of Thy wings 
Thy saints have dwelt secure, 

Sufficient is Thine arm alone, 

And Thy defense is sure!" 

The bells ceased ringing and the vibration slowly died 
away, hill answering to hill, in waves of softly fading 
sound, while the people went to their suppers with a light 
of blessing and uplift on their faces. But in the darkened 
church, Marilyn, with her fingers on the keys and her 
face down upon her hands was praying, praying that God 
would shelter Mark and Billy. 




XXIII 


High in the tree over Billy’ head a little chipmunk 
whisked with a nut in his mouth. He selected a comfort¬ 
able rocking branch, unfurled his tail for a wind shield at 
his back, and sat up to his supper table as it were with the 
nut u his two hands. Something unusual caught his at¬ 
tention as he was about to attack the nutshell, and he 
cocked his little striped head around, up, and down, and 
took in Billy. Then a squirrel smile overspread his furry 
face and a twinkle seemed to come in his eye. With a 
wink down toward Billy he went to work. Crack, crack, 
crack! The shell was open. Crack! And a large section 
fell, whirling spinning down, straight down. The squirrel 
paused in his nibbling and cocked an eye again with that 
mischievous twinkle as if he enjoyed the joke, watching 
the light bit of shell in its swift descent, plump on the end 
of Billy’s nose. It couldn’t have hit straighter if Chippie 
had been pitcher for the Sabbath Valley base ball team. 

Billy opened his eyes with a start and a scowl, and there 
before him, glaring like a wild beast, thick lips agap show¬ 
ing gnarled yellow teeth, wicked eyes, red glittering and 
murderous, was Pat, ugly, formidable and threatening! 

“ Come outta there you little varmint you! ” roared 
Pat. “ Come out and I’ll skin the nasty yella hide off’n ya. 
I gotcha good and hard now right where I wantcha an’ 
ye won’t— ” 

Bang! Click!—BAN G! 

Billy had been lying among the thick undergrowth, flat 
on his back, his left arm flung above his head, but his right 
arm was thrust out from his body under a thick clump of 
laurel, and his right hand held the gun ready for any 
emergency when he inadvertently went to sleep. The gun 

251 





252 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


was pointed down the Valley along the ground and his 
fingers wrapped knowingly, loving around the weapon,— 
he had so long wanted to own one of his own. That gun 
was not included in the blood money and was not to be 
returned. It was a perquisite of war. 

Billy was all there always, and even awakening sud¬ 
denly from much needed sleep he was on the job. One 
glance at Pat’s devilish face and his fingers automatically 
pulled the trigger. The report roared out along the Valley 
like a volley from a regiment. 

Billy hardly felt the rebound of the weapon before he 
realized that Patrick was no more between hi9 vision and 
the sun’s last rays. Patrick was legging it down the Val¬ 
ley with all the strength he had left, and taking no time to 
look back. Billy had presence of mind to let off another 
volley before he rose to investigate; but there was nothing 
left of Pat but a ruffled path in the undergrowth and a 
waving branch or two he had turned aside in his going. 
So that was that! Doggone it, why did he have to go to 
sleep? If he had only been ready he could have managed 
this affair so much better for his own ends. He wanted 
a heart to heart talk with Pat while he had him good and 
frightened, and now it was too late. He must get 
back to the other job. He shinned up a tree and 
observed the broad shoulders of Pat wallowing up the 
bank over by the railroad. He was going back to the 
station. It was as well. He might see him again tomor¬ 
row perhaps, for Pat he must have as evidence. And 
besides, Pat might read the note and conclude to come back 
and answer it. 

Billy parted the bushes to see if Pat had taken the 
money and note with him, and lo, here was the rude moun¬ 
tain telephone box wide open wth the bunch of keys in the 
lock just as Pat must have left it when he discovered the 
paper and money, or perhaps Pat had been going to report 





THE CITY OF FERE 


253 


to Sam what had happened, who knew? You see Billy 
knew nothing of his little red and brown striped partner 
up in the tree who had dropped a nut to warn him of 
danger, and did not realize that Chippie had also startled 
Pat, and set him looking among the bushes for the sources 
of the sound. 

But Billy knew how to take advantage of a situation 
if he didn’t know what made it, and in a trice he was 
down on his knees with the crude receiver in his hands. 

It was too late to ride down to the Blue Duck and tele¬ 
phone, but here was a telephone come to him, and now was 
a chance to try if it was a telephone at all, or only a private 
wire run secretly. He waited breathless with the long 
hum of wires in his ears, and then a quick click and “Num¬ 
ber please.” Billy could hardly command his voice but he 
murmured “ Economy 13 ” in a low growl, his hard young 
hands shaking with excitement. “Your letter please!” 
Billy looked wildly at the rough box but could see no sign 
of number. “ Why, it’s the station, doncha know ? What’s 
thamatterwithya ? ” His spirits were rising. “J” stated 
the operator patiently. “ Well, jay then,” said Billy, 
“ Whaddolcare ? ” “ Just-a-minute-please,” and suddenly 
the Chief’s voice boomed out reassuringly. Billy cast a 
furtive eye back of him in the dusk and fell to his business 
with relief. 

“Say, Chief, that you? This’s Bill! Say, Chief, I 
wantcha he’p right away pretty quick! Got a line on those 
guys! You bring three men an’ ge’down on the Lone 
Valley Road below Stark mountain an’ keep yer eye peeled 
t’ward the hanted house. Savvy ? Yes, old hanted house, 
you know. You wait there till I signal. Yes, flash! Listen, 
one wink if you go to right, two come up straight, and 
three to the left. If it’s only one repeated several times, 
you spread all round. Yep. I’m goin’ up there right now. 
No, Chief, I wouldn’t call ye f’l didn’t think t’was pretty 


254 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


sure. Yep! I think they’ll come out soon’s it gets real 
dark. Yep, I think they ben there all day. I ain’t sure, 
but I think. You won’t fail me, will you Chief. No, sure! 
I’ll stick by. Be sure to bring three men, there’s two of 
’em, I ain’t rightly sure but three. I jus’ stirred another 
up. Whatssay? No, I’m’lone! Aw, I’m awright! Sure. 
I’ll be careful. Whatssay? Where? Oh’ I’m at a hole in 
the ground. Yes, down below Pleasant Valley station. 
Some telephone! I’ll show it to you t’morra! S’long, 
Chief, I gotta go! It’s gettin’ dark, goobbye!” 

Billy gave hurried glances about and rustled under 
the branches like a snake over to where old trusty 
lay. In ten minutes more he was worming his way up the 
side of Stark mountain, while Pat was fortifying himself 
well within the little station, behind tables and desks for 
the night, and scanning the Valley from the dusty win¬ 
dow panes. 

Billy parked his wheel in its usual place and con¬ 
tinued up the hill to the opening at the back, then stood 
long listening. Once he thought he heard something drop 
inside the kitchen door, but no sound followed it and he 
concluded it had been a rat. Half way between himself 
and the back door something gleamed faintly in the star¬ 
light. He didn’t remember to have seen anything there 
before. He stole cautiously over, moving so slowly that 
he could not even hear himself. He paused beside the gleam 
and examined. It was an empty flask still redolent. 
Ummm! Booze! Billy wasn’t surprised. Of course they 
would try to get something to while away their seclusion 
until they dared venture forth with their booty. He con¬ 
tinued his cautious passage toward the house and then 
began to encircle it, keeping close to the wall and feeling 
his way along, for the moon would be late and small that 
night and he must work entirely by starlight. It was his 
intention after going around the house to enter and recon- 







THE CITY OF FIRE 


255 


noitre in his stocking feet. As he neared the front of the 
house he dropped both hands to his sweater pockets, the 
revolver in his right hand with its two precious cartridges, 
the flash light which he had taken care to renew in Economy 
in his left hand, fingers ready to use either instantly. He 
turned the corner and stole on toward the front door, still 
.noiseless as a mouse would go, his rubber sneakers touching 
like velvet in the grass. 

He was only two feet from the front stoop when he 
become aware of danger, something, a familiar scent, a 
breathlessness, and then a sudden stir. A dark thing ahead 
and the feeling of something coming behind. Billy as if a 
football signal had been given, grew calm and alert. In¬ 
stantly both arms flashed up, and down the mountain shot 
two long yellow winks of light, and simultaneously two 
sharp reports of a gun, followed almost instantly by an¬ 
other shot, more sinister in sound, and Billy’s right arm 
dropped limply by his side, while a sick wave of pain passed 
over him. 

But he could not stop for that. He remembered the 
day when Mark had been coaching the football team and 
had told them that they must not stop for anything when 
they were in action. If they thought their legs were broken, 
or they were mortally wounded and dying, they must not 
even think of it. Football was the one thing, and they were 
to forget they were dead and go ahead with every whiff of 
punch there was in them, blind or lame, or dead even, be¬ 
cause when they were playing, football was the only thing 
that counted. And if they were sick or wounded or bleed¬ 
ing let the wound or the sickness take care of itself. They 
were playing football! So Billy felt now. 

He hurled himself viciously at the dark shadow ahead, 
which he mentally registered as Link because he seemed 
long to tackle, and then kicked behind at the thing that came 
after, and struggled manfully with a throttling hand on his 


256 


THE CITY OF FIBE 


throat till a wad of vile cloth was forced into his mouth— 
and just as he had a half Nelson on Shorty, too! If he 
could have got Shorty down and stood on him he might 
have beaten off Link until Chief got there. Where was 
Chief ? Where was the gun ? Where was he ? His head 
was swimming. Was it his head he had hit against the wall, 
or did he bang Shorty’s ? How it resounded! There were 
winding stairs in his head and he seemed to be climbing 
them, up, up, up, till he dropped in a heap on the floor, a 
hard floor all dust, and the dust came into his nostrils. He 
was choking with that rag! Why couldn’t he pull it out? 
What was cutting his wrists when he tried to raise his 
hand? And what was that queer pain in his shoulder? 

There were shouts outside. How did he get inside? 
Was that more shooting? Perhaps he had found his gun 
after all. Perhaps he was shooting the men before the 
Chief got there, and that was bad, because he didn’t feel 
competent to judge about a thing as serious as shooting 
with that dirty rag in his mouth. He must get rid of it 
somehow. Doggone it! He had somehow got his hands 
all tangled up in cords, and he must get them out no matter 
if they did cut. He had to give the Chief a signal. 

He struggled again with all his might, and something 
somewhere gave way. He wasn’t sure what, but he seemed 
to be sinking down, perhaps down stairs or down the 
mountain, somehow so it was down where the Chief—! 
where Mark! The light in his brain went out and he lay as 
one dead in the great dusty front bedroom where a man 
who had sinned, hanged himself once because he couldn’t 
bear his conscience any longer. 

And outside in the front door yard five men struggled 
in the dark, with curses, and shots, and twice one almost 
escaped, for Link was desperate, having a record behind 
him that would be enough for ten men to run away from. 

But after the two were bound and secured in the car 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


257 


down at the foot of the mountain, the Chief lingered, and 
looking up said in a low tone to one of his men: “ I won¬ 
der where that boy is! ” 

“ Oh, he’s all right,” said his assistant easily, “ he’s 
off on another piece of business by this time, Chief. He 
likes to seem mysterious. It’s just his way. Say, Chief, 
we gotta get back if we wantta meet that train down at 
Unity t’night.” 

That was true too, and most important, so the Chief 
with a worried glance toward the dark mountain turned 
his car and hurried his captives away. Now that they were 
where he could get a glance at them in the dim light of the 
car, he felt pretty sure they were a couple of “ birds ” he 
had been looking for for quite a while. If that was so he 
must reward Billy somehow. That boy was a little 
wonder. He would make a detective some day. It 
wouldn’t be a bad idea to take him on in a quiet sort of 
way and train him. He might be a great help. He mustn’t 
forget this night’s work. And what was that the kid had said 
about a secret underground wire? He must look into it 
as soon as this murder trial was off the docket. That 
murder trial worried him. He didn’t like the turn things 
were taking. 


17 


XXIII 


In the gray of the morning Billy came to himself and 
stared around in the stuffy grimness everywhere. The gag 
was still in his mouth He put up his hand involuntarily 
and pulled it out, and then remembered that his hands had 
been tied. Then he must have succeeded in breaking the 
cord! The other hand was still encumbered and his feet 
were tied together, but it happened that the well hand was 
the freed one, and so after a hard struggle he succeeded in 
getting out of the tangle of knots and upon his feet. He 
worked cautiously because he wasn’t sure how much of 
what he remembered was dream and how much was 
reality. The two men might be in the house yet, very 
likely were, asleep somewhere. He must steal down and 
get away before they awoke. 

There was something warm and sticky on the floor 
and it had got on his clothes, but he took no notice of it at 
first. He wondered what that sick pain in his shoulder 
was, but he had not time to stop and see now or even to 
think about it He must call the Chief before the men 
were awake. So he managed to get upon his feet |and 
steady himself against the wall, for he felt dizzy and faint 
when he tried to walk. But he managed to get into the hall, 
and peer into each room, and more and more as he went he 
felt he was alone in the house. Then he had failed and the 
men were gone! Aw Gee! Pat too! What a fool he had 
been, thinking he could manage the affair! He ought to 
have taken the Chief into his confidence and let him come 
along, Aw Gee! 

Down in the kitchen he found a pail of water and a cup. 
He drank thirstily. His head felt hot and the veins in his 
neck throbbed. There seemed to be a lump on his forehead. 

258 






THE CITY OF FIRE 


259 


He bathed his face and head. How good it felt! Then he 
found a whiskey bottle on the table half full. This after 
carefully smelling he poured over his bruised wrists, sop¬ 
ping it on his head and forehead, and finally pouring some 
down his shoulder that pained so, and all that he did was 
done blindly, like one in a dream; just an involuntary 
searching for means to go on and fulfill his purpose. 

After another drink of water he seemed to be able to 
think more clearly. That tapping in the cellar yesterday! 
What had that been? He must look and see. Yes, that 
was really what he had come about. Perhaps the men were 
down there yet hidden away. He opened the cellar door 
and listened. Doggone it where was that gun of his ? But 
the flash light! Yes, the flash light! 

He shot the light ahead of him as he went down, 
moving as in a dream, but keeping true to type, cautious, 
careful, stealthy. At last he was down. No one there! He 
turned the little flash into every nook and cranny, not ex¬ 
cepting the ledges above the cellar wall whereon the floor 
beams rested. Once he came on a tin box long and flat 
and new looking. It seemed strange to meet it here. There 
was no dust upon it. He poked it down with his torch and 
it sprawled open at his feet. Papers, long folded papers 
printed with writing in between, like bonds or deeds or 
something. He stooped and waved the flash above them 
and caught the name Shafton in one. It was an insurance 
paper, house and furniture. He felt too stupid to quite 
understand, but it grew into his consciousness that these 
were the things he was looking for. He gathered them 
up, stuffing them carefully inside his blouse. They would 
be safe there. Then he turned to go upstairs, but stumbled 
over a pile of coal out in the floor and fell. It gave him a 
sick sensation to fall. It almost seemed that he couldn't 
get up again, but now he had found the papers he must. 
He crawled to his knees, and felt around, then turned his 


260 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


light on. This was strange! A heap of coal out in the mid¬ 
dle of the floor, almost a foot from the rest! A rusty shovel 
lay beside it, a chisel and a big stone. Ah! The tapping! 
He got up forgetting his pain and began to kick away the 
coal, turning the flash light down. Yes, there was a crack 
in the cement, a loose piece. He could almost lift it with 
his foot. He pried at it with the toe of his shoe, and then 
lifted it with much effort out of the way. It was quite a 
big piece, more than a foot in diameter! The ground was 
soft underneath as if it had been recently worked over. He 
stooped and plunged the fingers of his good hand in and 
felt around, laying the light on the floor so it would shed 
a glare over the spot where he worked. He could feel 
down several inches. There seemed to be something soft 
like cloth or leather. He pulled at it and finally brought it 
up. A leather bag girt about with a thong of leather. He 
picked the knot and turned the flash in. It sent forth a 
million green lights. There seemed also to be a rope of 
white glistening things that reminded him of Saxy’s tears. 
That brought a pang. Saxy would be crying! He must re¬ 
member that and do something about it. He must have been 
away a long time and perhaps those men would be coming 
back. But it wouldn’t do to leave these things here. They 
were the Shafton jewels. What anybody wanted of a lot 
of shiny little stones like that and a rope of tears! But 
then if they did they did, and they were theirs and they 
oughtta have ’em. This was the thing he had come to do. 
Get those jewels and papers back! Make up as far as he 
could for what he had done! And he must do it now 
quick before he got sick. He felt he was getting sick and 
he mustn’t think about it or he would turn into Aunt 
Saxon. That was the queerest thing, back in his mind he 
felt this was Aunt Saxon down here in the haunted cellar j 
playing with green stones and ropes of tears, and he must 
hurry quick before she found him and told him he couldn’t 
finish what he had to do. 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


201 

He did the work thoroughly, feeling down in the hole 
I again, but found nothing more. Then he stuffed the bag 
! inside his blouse and buttoned up his sweater with his 
: well hand and somehow got up the stairs. That arm pained 
: him a lot, and he found his sweater was wet. So he took 
1 his handkerchief and tied it tight around the place that 
1 hurt the most, holding one end in his teeth, to make the 
i knot firm. 

The sun blinded him as he stumbled down the back 
: steps and went to get his wheel, but somehow he managed 
1 it, plunging through the brakes and tangles, and back to 
i the road. 

1 It ran in his brain where the Shaftons lived out in the 
country on the Jersey shore. He had a mental picture in 
the back of his mind how to get there. He knew that when 
he struck the Highroad there was nothing to do but keep 
straight on till he crossed the State Line and then he would 
find it somehow, although it was miles away. If he had 
j been himself he would have known it was an impossible 
journey in his present condition, but he wasn’t thinking of 
I impossibilities. He had to do it, didn’t he ? He, Billy, 

| had set out to make reparation for the confusion he had 
' wrought in his small world, and he meant to do so, though 
all hell should rise against him. Hell! That was it. He 
could see the flames in hot little spots where the morning 
sun struck. He could hear the bells striking the hour in 
the world he used to know that was not for him any more. 
He zigzagged along the road in a crazy way, and strange 
to say he met nobody he knew, for it was early. Ten 
minutes after he passed the Crossroads Elder Harricutt 
went across the Highway toward Economy to his day’s 
work, and he would have loved to have seen Billy, and 
his rusty old wheel, staggering along in that crazy way 
and smelling of whiskey like a whole moonshiner, fairly 
reeking with whiskey as he joggled down the road, and a 
queer little tinkle now and then just inside his blouse as if 






262 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


he carried loaded dice. Oh, he would have loved to have 
caught Billy shooting crap! 

But he was too late, and Billy swam on, the sun grow¬ 
ing hotter on his aching head, the light more blinding to 
his blood shot eyes, the lump bigger and bluer on his 
grimy forehead. 

About ten o’clock a car came by, slowed down, the 
driver watching Billy, though Billy took no note of him. 
Billy was looking on the ground dreaming he was search¬ 
ing for the state line. He had a crazy notion it oughtta be 
there somewhere. 

The man in the car stopped and called to him: 

“ How about putting your wheel in the back seat and 
letting me give you a lift? You look pretty tired.” 

Billy lifted bleared eyes and stopped pedalling, almost 
falling off his wheel, but recovering himself with a wrench 
of pain and sliding off. 

“ Awwright! ” said Billy, “ Thanks! ” 

“ You look all in, son,” said the man kindly. 

“ Yep,” said Billy laconically, “ ’yam! Been up all 
night. Care fT sleep ? ” 

“ Help yourself,” said the man, giving a lift with the 
wheel, and putting it in behind. 

Billy curled down in the back seat without fur¬ 
ther ceremony. 

“ Where are you going son ? ” 

Billy named the country seat of the Shaftons, having 
no idea how far away it was. The man gave a whistle. 

“ What! On that wheel? Well, go to sleep son. I’m 
going there myself, so don’t worry. I’ll wake you up 
when you get there.” 

So Billy slept through the first long journey he had 
taken since he came to live with Aunt Saxon, slept pro¬ 
foundly with an oblivion that almost amounted to coma. 
Sometimes the man, looking back, was tempted to stop 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


263 


and see if the boy was yet alive, but a light touch on the 
hot forehead showed him that life was not extinct, and 
they whirled on. 

Three hours later Billy was awakened by a sharp shake 
of his sore shoulder and a stinging pain that shot throu^ 
him like fire. Fire! Fire! He was on fire! That was how 
he felt as he opened his eyes and glared at the stranger: 

“ Aw, lookout there, whatterya doin’ ? ” he blazed, 
“ Whadda ya think I am? A football? Don’t touch me. 
I’ll get out. This the place? Thanks fer tha ride, I was all 
in. Say, d’ya know a guy by the name of Shafton? ” 

“Shafton?” asked the man astonished, “ are you 
going to Shafton’s? ” 

“ Sure,” said Billy, “ anything wrong about that ? 
Where does he hang out? ” The look of Billy, and more 
than all the smell of him made it quite apparent to the 
casual observer that he had been drinking, and the man 
eyed him compassionately. “Poor little fool! He’s 
beginning young. What on earth does he want 
at Shaftons?” 

“ I ’spose you’ve come down after the reward,” grin¬ 
ned the man, “ I could have saved you the trouble if you’d 
told me. The kidnapped son has got home. They are not 
in need of further information.” 

Billy gave him a superior leer with one eye closed: 

“You may not know all there is to know about that,” 
he said impudently, “ where did you say he lived ? ” 

The man shrugged his shoulders indifferently. 

“ Suit yourself,” he said, “ I doubt if they’ll see you. 
They have had nothing but a stream of vagrants for two 
days and they’re about sick of it. They live on the next 
estate and the gateway is right around that corner.” 

“ I ain’t no vagrant,” glared Billy, and limped away 
with old trusty under his left arm. 

No one molested him as he walked in the arched and 


264 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


ivied gateway, for the gate keeper was off on a little 
private errand of his own at a place where prohibition had 
not yet penetrated. Billy felt too heavy and dizzy to mount 
his wheel, but he leaned on the saddle as he walked and 
tried to get things straight in his head. He oughtn’t to 
have gone to sleep, that’s what he oughtn’t. But this job 
would soon be over and then he would hike it for home. 
Gee! Wouldn’t home feel good! And Aunt Saxon would 
bathe his head with wych hazel and make cold things 
for him to drink! Aw, Gee! 

The pedigreed dogs of which the place boasted a num¬ 
ber came suddenly down upon him in a great flare of noise, 
but dogs were always his friends, why should he worry? 
A pity he couldn’t stop to make friends with them just now. 
Some dogs! Here pup! Gee! What a dog to own! The 
dogs whined and fawned upon him. Pedigree or no pedi¬ 
gree, rags and whiskey and dirt notwithstanding, they 
knew a man when they saw one, and Billy hadn’t batted an 
eyelid when they tried their worst tramp barks on him. 
They wagged their silky tails and tumbled over each other 
to get first place to him, and so escorted proudly he dropped 
old trusty by a clump of imported rhododendrons and 
limped up the marble steps to the wide vistas of circular 
piazzas that stretched to seemingly infinite distances, and 
wondered if he should ever find the front door. 

An imposing butler appeared with a silver tray, and 
stood aghast. 

“ Shafton live here?” inquired Billy trying to look 
business like. “ Like to see him er the missus a minute,” 
he added as the frowning vision bowed. The butler 
politely but firmly told him that the master and mistress 
had other business and no desire to see him. The young 
gentleman had come home, and the reward had been with¬ 
drawn. If it was about the reward he had come he could 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


265 


go down to the village and find the detective. The house 
people didn’t want to interview any more callers. 

“ Well, say, ” said Billy disgusted, “ after I’ve come all 
this way too! You go tell ’er I’ve brought her jewels! 
You go tell ’er I’ve gottum here! ” 

The butler opened the door a little wider: he suggested 
that seeing was believing. 

“ Not on yer tin type! ” snapped Billy, “ I show ’em 
to nobody an’ I give ’em to nobody but the owner! 
Where’s the young fella? He knows me. Tell ’im I brang 
his ma’s string o’ beads an’ things.” 

Billy was weary. His head was spinning round. His 
temper was rising. 

“ Aw,—you make me tired! Get out of my way! ” 
He lowered his head and made a football dive with his head 
in the region of the dignified butler’s stomach, and before 
that dignitary had recovered his poise Billy with two collies 
joyously escorting him, stood blinking in wonder over the 
great beautiful living room, for all the world as pretty as 
the church at home, only stranger, with things around that 
he couldn’t make out the use of. 

“ Where’ur they at? Where are the folks?” he 
shouted back to the butler who was coming after him with 
menace in his eye. 

“ What is the matter, Morris? What is all this noise 
about ? ” came a lady’s voice in pettish tones from up 
above somewhere. “ Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t see 
another one of those dreadful people to-day? ” 

Billy located her smooth old childish face at once and 
strode to the foot of the stairs peering up at the lady, white 
with pain from his contact with the butler, but alert now 
to the task before him: 

“ Say, Miz Shaf’t’n, I got yer jools, would ya mind 
takin’ ’em right now? ’Cause I’m all in an’ I wantta 
get home.” 


266 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


His head was going around now like a merry-go- 
round, but he steadied himself by the bannister: 

“ Why, what do you mean? ” asked the lady descend¬ 
ing a step or two, a vision of marcelled white hair, violet 
and lace negligee, and well preserved features, “ You’ve 
got them there? Let me see them.” 

“ He’s been drinking, Sarah, can’t you smell it ? ” said 
a man’s voice higher up, “ Come away and let Morris deal 
with him. Really Sarah, we’ll have to go away if this 
keeps up.” 

“ Say, you guy up there, just shut yer trap a minute 
won’t ya! Here, Miz Shaf’t’n, are these here yours? ” 

Billy struggled with the neck of his blouse and brought 
forth the leather bag, gripped the knot fiercely in his teeth, 
ran his fingers in the bag as he held it in his mouth, his 
lamed arm hanging at his side, and drew forth the mag¬ 
nificent pearls. 

“ William! My pearls! ” shrieked the lady. 

The gentleman came down incredulous, and looked 
over her shoulder. 

“ I believe they are, Sarah,” he said. 

Billy leered feverishly up at him, and produced a sheaf 
of papers, seemingly burrowing somewhere in his internal 
regions to bring them forth. 

“ And here, d’these b’long? ” 

The master of the house gripped them. 

“ Sarah! The bonds! And the South American 
Shares! ” They were too busy to notice Billy who stood 
swaying by the newel post, his duty done now, the dogs 
grouped about him. 

“ Say, c’n I get me a drink? ” he asked of the butler, 
who hovered near uncertain what to be doing now that the 
tide was turned. 

The lady looked up. 

“ Morris!” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


267 


He scarcely heard the lady’s words but almost immedi¬ 
ately a tall slim glass of frosty drink, that smelled of wild 
grapes, tasted of oranges, and cooled him down to the soul 
again, was put into his hand and he gulped it greedily. 

“ Where did you say you found these, young man ? ” 
The gentleman eyed him sternly, and Billy’s old spirit 
flamed up: 

“ I didn’t say,” said Billy. 

“ But you know we’ve got to have all the evidence 
before we can give the reward—! ” 

“ Aw, cut it out! I don’t want no reward. Wouldn’t 
take it if you give it to me! I just wantta get home. Say, 
you gotta telephone ? ” 

“ Why certainly.” This was the most astonish¬ 
ing burglar! 

“ Well, where is’t ? Lemme call long distance on it ? I 
ain’t got the tin now, but I’ll pay ya when I git back home!” 

“ Why, the idea! Take him to the telephone Morris. 
Right there! This one—!” 

But Billy had sighted one on a mahogany desk near at 
hand and he toppled to the edge of the chair that stood 
before it. He took down the receiver in a shaky hand, 
calling Long Distance. 

“ This Long Distance? Well, gimme Economy 13.” 

The Shaftons for the instant were busy looking over 
the papers, identifying each jewel, wondering if any were 
missing. They did not notice Billy till a gruff young voice 
rang out with a pathetic tremble in it: “ That you Chief ? 
This is Billy. Say, c’n I bother you to phone to Miss 
Severn an’ ast her to tell m’yant I’m aw’wright ? Yes, tell 
her I’ll be home soon now, an’ I’ll explain. And Chief, 
I’m mighty sorry those two guys got away, but I couldn’t 
help it. We’ll get ’em yet. Hope you didn’t wait long. 
Tell you more when I see ya, S’long—! ” 

The boyish voice trailed off into silence as the receiver 



268 


THE CITY^OF FIRE 


fell with a crash to the polished desk, and Billy slipped off 
the chair and lay in a huddled heap on the costly rug. 

“ Oh, mercy! ” cried the lady, “ Is he drunk or what? ” 
“ Come away Sarah, let Morris deal—” 

“ But he’s sick, I believe, William. Look how white 
he is. I believe he is dead! William, he may have come a 
long way in the heat 1 He may have had a sunstroke! 
Morris, send for a doctor quick! And—call the ambu¬ 
lance too! You better telephone the hospital. We can’t 
have him here! William, look here, what’s this on his 
sleeve? Blood? Oh, William! And we didn’t give him 
any reward—! ” 

And so, while the days hastened on Billy lay between 
clean white sheets on a bed of pain in a private ward of a 
wonderful Memorial Hospital put up by the Shaftons in 
honor of a child that died. Tossing and moaning, and 
dreaming of unquenchable fire, always trying to climb out 
of the hot crater that held him, and never getting quite to 
the top, always knowing there was something he must do, 
yet never quite finding out what it was. And back in Sab¬ 
bath Valley Aunt Saxon prayed and cried and waited and 
took heart of cheer from the message the Chief had sent to 
Lynn. And quietly the day approached for the trial of 
Mark Carter, but his niother did not yet know. 


XXIV 


Mrs. Gibson, the wife of the comparatively new elder 
of the Sabbath Valley church was a semi-invalid. That is 
she wasn’t able to do her own work and kept “help.” The 
help was a lady of ample proportions whose husband had 
died and whose fortunes were depleted. She consented 
to assist Mrs. Gibson provided she were considered one 
of the family, and she presented a continual front of of¬ 
fense so that the favored family must walk most circum¬ 
spectly if they would not have her retire to her room with 
hurt feelings and leave them to shift for themselves. 

On the morning of the trial she settled herself at her 
side of the breakfast table, after a number of excursions 
to the kitchen for things she had forgotten, the cream, the 
coffee, and the brown bread, of which Mr. Gibson was 
very fond. She was prepared to enjoy her own breakfast. 
Mr. Gibson generally managed to bolt his while these ex¬ 
cursions of memory were being carried on and escape the 
morning news, but Mrs. Gibson, well knowing which side 
her bread was buttered, and not knowing where she could 
get another housekeeper, usually managed to sit it out. 

“ Well, this is a great day for Sabbath Valley,” said 
Mrs. Frost mournfully, spreading an ample slice of bread 
deep with butter, and balancing it on the uplifted fingers 
of one hand while she stirred the remainder of the cream 
into her coffee with one of the best silver spoons. She 
was wide and bulgy and her chair always seemed inade¬ 
quate when she settled thus for nourishment. 

" A great day,” she repeated sadly, taking an audible 
sip of her coffee. 

“A great day?” repeated little Mrs. Gibson with a 
puzzled air, quickly recalling her abstracted thoughts. 

269 




270 


THE CITY OF FERE 


“ Yes. Nobody ever thought anybody in Sabbath Val¬ 
ley would ever be tried for murder! ” 

“Oh!” said Mrs. Gibson sharply, drawing back her 
chair as if she were in a hurry and rolling up her nap¬ 
kin quickly. 

“ Yes, poor Mark Carter! I remember his sweet little 
face and his long yellow curls and his baby smile as if it 
were yesterday! ” narrowing her eyes and harrowing her 
voice, “ I wonder if his poor mother knows yet.” 

“ I should hope not 1 ” said Mrs. Gibson rising precipi¬ 
tately and wandering over to the window where hung a 
gilded canary cage. “ Mrs. Frost, did you remember to 
give the canary some seed and fresh water? ” 

“ Yes, I b’lieve so,” responded the fat lady, “ But you 
can’t keep her from knowing it always. Whatt’ll you do 
when he’s hung? Don’t you think it would be easier for 
her to get used to it little by little ? ” 

“ Mrs. Frost, if you were a dog would you rather have 
your tail cut off all at once, or little by little? ” said Mrs. 
Gibson mischievously. 

“ I shouldn’t like to have it cut off at all I’m quite 
sure,” said Mrs. Frost frostily. 

“ Well, perhaps Mrs. Carter might feel that way too,” 
said the lady bending over a rose geranium and pinching 
a leaf to smell. 

“I don’t understand you,” said Mrs. Frost from her 
coffee cup, “ Oh, you mean that perhaps Mark may not 
be convicted? Why, my dear lady, there isn’t a chance at 
all, not a chance in the world for Mark, and while I’m real 
sorry I can’t say I’d approve. Think of how he’s carried 
on, going with that little huzzy of a Cherry. Mrs. Harri- 
cutt says she saw him have her out riding in his automobile 
one day—! ” 

“Oh,— Mrs. Harricutt!” said Mrs. Gibson impa¬ 
tiently, “ Mrs. Frost, let’s find something pleasanter to talk 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


271 


i about. It’s a wonderful morning. The air’s like wine. I 
wonder If I couldn’t take a little walk. I mean to ask 
| the doctor.” 

“ My dear woman,” said Frost patronizingly, “ You 
can’t get away from the unpleasant things in this world by 
just not talking about them! ” 

“ It seems not,” said the Gibson lady patiently, and 
wandered out on the porch. 

Down the street Marilyn lingered by her mother’s chair: 
“ Are you—going to Economy to-day, mother ? ” 

“ Yes, dear, your father and I are both going. Did 
you—think you ought—wanted to—go dear ? ” 

“Oh, I should hate it!” cried Lynn flinging out her 
hands with a terrible little gesture of despair, “But I 
wanted to go just to stand by Mark. I shall be there 
! anyway, wherever I am. I shall see everything and feel 
everything in my heart I know. But in the night it came to 
me that some one ought to stay with Mrs. Carter! ” 

“ Yes, dear! I had hoped you would think of that. I 
didn’t want to mention it because I wanted you to follow 
your own heart’s leading, but I think she needs you. If 
you could keep her from finding out until it was over—” 

“ But suppose—! ” 

“ Yes, dear, it is possible. I’ve thought of that, and if 
| it comes there will be a way I’m sure, but until it does— 
j then suppose—” 

“Yes, mother, I’ll go and make her have one happy day 
! first anyway.” If any of those old vultures come around 
I’ll play the piano or scream all the while they are there and 

I keep them from telling her a thing! ” 

“I think, dear, the vultures will all be in Economy 
to-day.” 

a “ All except Mrs. Frost, mother dear. She can’t get 
away. But she can always run across the street to borrow 
a cup of soda.” 





272 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


So Lynn knelt for a moment in her quiet room, then 
came down, kissed her mother and father with a face of 
brave serenity, and went down the maple shaded street 
with her silk work bag in her hand. And none too soon. 
As she tapped at the door of the Carter house she saw Mrs. 
Frost ambling purposefully out of the Gibson gate with a 
tea cup in her hand. 

“ Oh, hurry upstairs and stay there a minute till I get 
rid of Mrs. Frost,” Lynn whispered smiling as her hostess 
let her in. “ I’ve come to spend the day with you, and she’ll 
stay till she’s told you all the news and there won’t be any 
left for me.” 

Mrs. Carter, greatly delighted with Lynn’s company, 
hurried obediently up the stairs and Lynn met the inter¬ 
loper, supplied her with the cup of salt she had come for 
this time, said Mrs. Carter was upstairs making the beds 
and she wouldn’t bother her to come down,— beds , mind 
you, as if Mark was at home of course—and Mrs. Frost 
went back across the street puzzled and baffled and resolved 
to come back later for an egg after that forward young 
daughter of the minister was gone. 

Lynn locked the front door and ran up stairs. She 
tolled her hostess up to the attic to show her some ancient 
gowns and poke bonnets that she hadn’t seen since she 
was a little girl in which she and Mark used to dress up 
and play history stories. 

Half the morning she kept her up there looking at 
garments long folded away, whose wearers had slept in 
the church yard many years; trinkets of other days, quaint 
old pictures, photographs and daguerreotypes, and a beauti¬ 
ful curl of Mark’s—: 

“ Marilyn, I’m going to give that to you,” the mother 
said as she saw the shining thing lying in the girl’s hand, 
“ There’s no one living to care for it after I’m gone, and 
you will keep it I know till you’re sure there’s no one would 
want it I—mean—! ” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


273 


“ I understand what you mean,” said Marilyn, “ I will 
keep it and love it—for you—and for him. And if there 
is ever anybody else that—deserves it—why I’ll give it 
to them—!” Then they both laughed to hide the tears be¬ 
hind the unspoken thoughts, and the mother added a little 
stubbed shoe and a sheer muslin cap, all delicate embroid¬ 
ery and hemstitching: 

“ They go together,” she said simply, and Lynn wrap¬ 
ped them all carefully in a bit of tissue paper and laid 
them in her silk bag. As she turned away she held it close 
to her heart while the mother closed the shutters. She 
shuddered to think of the place where Mark was sitting 
now, being tried for his life. Her heart flew over the 
road, entered the court and stood close by his side, with 
her hand on his shoulder, and then slipped it in his. She 
wondered if he knew that she was praying, praying, pray¬ 
ing for him and standing by him, taking the burden of 
what would have been his mother’s grief if she had known, 
as well as the heavy burden of her own sorrow. 

The air of the court room was heavy for the place was 
crowded. Almost everybody from. Sabbath Valley that 
could come was there, for a great many people loved Mark 
Carter, and this seemed a time when somehow they must 
stand by him. People came that liked him and some that 
did not like him, but more that liked him and kept hoping 
against hope that he would not be indicted. 

The hum of voices suddenly ceased as the prisoner was 
led in and a breath of awe passed over the place. For until 
that minute no one was quite sure that Mark Carter would 
appear.lt had been rumored again and again that he had run 
away. Yet here he was, walking tall and straight, his fine 
head held high as had been his wont. “ For all the world 
like he walked when he was usher at Mary Anne’s wedding, 
whispered Mrs. Hulse, from Unity.” 

The minister and his wife kept their eyes down after 
the first glimpse of the white face. It seemed a desecra- 





274 


THE CITY OF FERE 


tion to look at a face that had suffered as that one had. Yet 
the expression upon it now was more as if it had been set 
for a certain purpose for this day, and did not mean to 
change whatever came. A hopeless, sad, persist look, yet 
strong withal and with a hint of something fine and high 
behind it. 

He did not look around as he sat down, merely nodded 
to a few close to him whom he recognized, A number 
pressed close as he passed, and touched him, as if they 
would impress upon him their loyalty, and it was notice¬ 
able that these were mostly of a humble class, working 
men, boys, and a few old women, people to whom he had 
been kind. 

Mrs. Severn wrote a little note and sent it up to him, 
with the message, “ Lynn is with your mother.” Just that. 
No name signed. But his eyes sought hers at once and 
seemed to light, and soon, without any apparent move¬ 
ment on his part a card came back to her bearing the 
words: “ I thank you.” But he did not look that way 
again all day it seemed. His bearing was quiet, sad, aloof, 
one might almost have said disinterested. 

Mark’s lawyer was one whom he had picked out of 
the gutter and literally forced to stop drinking and get 
back on his job. He was a man of fine mind and deep grati¬ 
tude, and was having a frantic time with his client, for 
Mark simply wouldn’t talk: 

“ I wasn’t there, I was on Stark mountain, I am not 
guilty,” he persisted, “ and that is all I have to say.” 

“ But my dear friend, don’t you realize that mere state¬ 
ments unadorned and uncorroborated won’t get you any¬ 
where in court ? ” 

“ All right, don’t try to defend me then. Let the thing 
go as it will. That is all I have to say.” And from this 
decision no one had been able to shake him. His 
lawyer was nearly crazy. He had raked the county for 
witnesses. He had dug into the annals of that night in 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


275 


every possible direction. He had unearthed things that it 
seemed no living being would have thought of, and yet he 
had not found the one thing of which he was in search, 
positive evidence that Mark Carter had been elsewhere 
and otherwise employed at the time of the shooting. 

“ Don’t bother so much about it Tony,” said Mark 
once when they were talking it over, or the lawyer was 
talking it over and Mark was listening. “ It doesn’t mat¬ 
ter. Nothing matters any more! ” and his voice was weary 
as if all hope had vanished from him. 

Anthony Drew looked at him in despair: 

“ Sometimes I almost think you want to die,” he said. 
“ Do you think I shall let you go when you pulled me back 
from worse than death? No, Mark, old man, we’re going 
to pull you through somehow, though I don’t know how. 
If I were a praying man I’d say that this was the time to 
pray. Mark, what’s become of that kid you used to think 
so much of, that was always tagging after you? Billy,— 
was that his name ? ” 

A wan smile flitted across Mark’s face, and a stiff little 
drawing of the old twinkle about eyes and lips: 

“ I think he’ll turn up some time.” 

The lawyer eyed him keenly: 

“ Mark, I believe you’ve got something up your sleeve. 
I believe that kid knows something and you won’t let him 
tell. Where is he?” 

“ I don’t know, Tony” and Mark looked at him 
straight with clear eyes, and the lawyer knew he was telling 
the truth. 

Just at the last day Anthony Drew found out about the 
session meeting. But from Mark he got no further state- 

I msnt than the first one. Mark would not talk. An ordi¬ 
nary lawyer, one that had not been saved himself, would 
have given up the defense as hopeless. Anthony simply 
wouldn’t let Mark go undefended. If there were no evi- 
| dence he would make some somehow, and so he worked 




276 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


hoping against hope up to the very last minute. He stood 
now, tall, anxious, a fine face, though showing the marks 
of wreck behind him, dark hair silvered at the edges, fine 
deep lines about his eyes and brows, looking over the 
assembled throng with nervous hurrying eyes. At last he 
seemed to find what he wanted and came quickly down to 
where the minister sat in an obscure corner, whispering 
a few words with him. They went out together for a few 
minutes and when they came back the minister was grave 
and thoughtful. He himself had scoured the country 
round about quietly for Billy, and he was deeply puzzled. 
He had promised to tell what he knew. 

The business of the day went forward in the usual way 
with all the red tape, the cool formalities, as if some trifling 
matter were at stake, and those who loved Mark sat with 
aching hearts and waited. The Severns in their comer sat 
for the most part with bended heads and praying hearts. 
The witnesses for the prosecution were most of them com¬ 
panions of the dead man, those who had drank and 
caroused with him, frequenters of the Blue Duck, and they 
were herded together, an evil looking crowd, but with 
erect heads and defiant attitude, the air of having donned 
unaccustomed garments of righteousness for the occasion, 
and making a great deal of it because for once every one 
must see that they were in the right. They were fairly 
loud mouthed in their boasting about it. 

There was the little old wizened up fellow that had been 
sitting with the drinks outside the booth the night Billy 
telephoned. There were the serving men who had waited 
on Mark and Cherry. There was the proprietor of the 
Blue Duck himself, who testified that Mark had often been 
there with Cherry, though always early in the evening. 
Once he had caught him outside the window looking in at 
the dancers as late as two o'clock at night, the same win¬ 
dow from which the shot was fired that brought Dolph to 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


277 

his death. They testified that Mark had been seen with 
Cherry much of late driving in his car, and that she had 
often been in deep converse as if having a hot argument 
about something. 

The feeling was tense in the court room. Tears were 
in many eyes, hopeless tears in the eyes of those who had 
loved the boy for years. 

But the grilling order marched on, and witness after 
witness came, adding another and another little touch to the 
gradually rising structure that would shut Mark Carter 
away from the world that loved him and that he 
loved forever. 

Cherry was called, a flaunting bit of a child with bobbed 
golden hair and the air of a bold young seraph, her white 
face bravely painted, her cherry lips cherrier even than the 
cherry for which she had been named. She wore a silk coat 
reaching to the bottom of her frock, which was shorter 
than the shortest, and daring little high-heeled many 
strapped shoes with a myriad of bright buckles. Her hat 
was an insolent affair of cherry red. She made a blinding 
bit of color in the dreary court room. She appeared half 
frightened, half defiant. Her sharp little face seemed to 
have lost its round curves and childlike sweetness. She 
testified that she had been with Mark on the night of the 
shooting, but that he had taken her home early and she had 
seen no more of him that night. She admitted that she had 
returned later to the Blue Duck Tavern with Dolph and 
had danced late and eaten supper with him afterwards, and 
that it was while they were eating that the shot was fired 
and Dolph fell over on the table. No, she didn’t see any 
face at the window. She had covered her face with her 
hands and screamed. She guessed she fainted. Questioned 
further she admitted that she had had an argument with 
Mark earlier in the evening, but she “ didn’t remember 
what it was about.” They often argued. Yes, Dolph was 
jealous of Mark and tried to stop her going with him. Yes, 






278 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Mark had tried to stop her going with Dolph too, but he 
never acted jealous—On and on through the sorry little 
details of Cherry’s career. The court room vultures re¬ 
ceiving it avidly, the more refined part of the company 
with distaste and disgust. Mark sat with stern white face 
looking straight at Cherry all'the time she was on the stand 
as if he dared her to say other than the truth. When she 
happened to look that way she gave a giggling little shud¬ 
der and half turned her shoulder away, avoiding his eyes. 
But when she was done she had said nothing against Mark, 
and nothing to clear him either. 

The sharp unscrupulous lawyer who acted for the 
prosecution had secured some fellows “ of the baser sort ” 
who testified that they had seen Mark Carter buying a gun, 
that they had seen him creep softly to the window, peer 
into the room, and take aim. They had been on their way 
home, had seen Mark steal along in a very suspicious man¬ 
ner and had followed him to find out what it meant. 
There were three of them, fellows whom Mark had re¬ 
fused to play against on a County team because they were 
what is called “ dirty ” players. There had been hot words 
between Mark and them once when one of them had kicked 
a man in the face with spiked shoes who was just about 
to make a goal. Mark had succeeded in winning the umpire 
to his point of view and the others had lost their game and 
incidentally some money, and they had a grudge against 
him. Moreover there was money in this testimony for 
The Blue Duck Tavern could not afford to have its habi¬ 
tues in the public eye, and preferred to place the blame on 
a man who belonged more to the conservative crowd. The 
Blue Duck had never quite approved of Mark, because 
though he came and went he never drank, and he some¬ 
times prevented others from doing so. This was unprofit¬ 
able to them. So matters stood when the noon-hour came 
and court adjourned for lunch. 


XXV 


And while the long morning dragged itself away in 
Economy listening to a tale of shame, over on the bright 
Jersey coast the waves washed lazily on a silver strand 
reflecting the blueness of the September sky, and soft 
breezes hovered around the classic little hospital building 
that stood in a grove of imported palms, and lifted its 
white columns picturesquely like some old Greek temple. 

There was nothing in the life he was living now to 
remind Billy of either hell or Sabbath Valley, yet for long 
days and weeks he had struggled through flames in a deep 
dark pit lighted only by lurid glare and his soul had well 
nigh gone out under the torture. Once the doctors and 
nurses had stood around and waited for his last breath. 
This was a marked case. The Shaftons were deeply inter¬ 
ested in it. The boy had mysteriously brought back all 
their valuable papers and jewels that had been stolen from 
them, and they were anxious to put him on his feet again. 
It went sadly against the comfortable self-complacent 
grain of a Shafton to feel himself under such mortal 
obligation to any one. 

But Billy was tougher than anyone knew, and one 
night after he had made the usual climb through the hot 
coals on his bare knees to the top of the pit, and come to 
the place where he always fell back, he held on a little 
tighter and set his teeth a little harder, and suddenly, with 
a long hard pull that took every atom of strength in his 
l wasted young body, he went over the top. Over the top 
and out into the clean open country where he could feel 
the sea breeze on his hot forehead and know that it was 
good. He was out of hell and he was cooling off. The 

279 






280 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


first step in the awful fight that began that night in the 
old haunted house on the mountain had been won. 

For three days he lay thus, cooling off and resting. He 
was fed and cared for but he took no cognizance of it 
except to smile weakly. Swallowing things was like 
breathing. You had to do it and you didn’t think about it. 
The fourth day he began to know the nurses apart, and 
to realize he was feeling better. As yet the past lay like a 
blurr of pain on his mind, and he hadn’t a care about any¬ 
thing save just to lie and know that it was good to smell 
the salt, and see the shimmer of blue from the window. 
At times when he slept the sound of bells in old hymns 
came to him like a dream and he smiled. But on the fifth 
morning he lifted his light head uncertainly and looked 
out of the window. Gee! That was pretty! And he 
dropped back and slept again. When he awoke there was 
a real meal for him. No more slops. Soup, and potato 
and a bit of bread and butter. Gee! It tasted good! He 
slept again and it was morning, or was it the same morn¬ 
ing ? He didn’t know. He tried to figure back and decided 
he had been in that hospital about three days, but when the 
next morning dawned and he felt the life creeping back 
into his veins he began to be uncertain. He asked the 
nurse how soon he could get up and get dressed. She 
smiled in a superior way and said the doctor hadn’t said. 
It would likely be sometime yet, he had been pretty sick. 
He told her sharply he couldn’t spare much more time, 
and asked her where his clothes were. 

She laughed and said: 

“ Oh, put away. You’ll have some new clothes when 
you get well. I -heard Mrs. Shafton talking about it this 
morning when she was in the office. She’s coming to see 
you pretty soon, and they mean to do a lot for you. You 
brought back her jewels didn’t you? Well, I guess you’ll 
get your reward all right,” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


281 


Billy looked at her blankly. Reward! Gosh! Was 
that reward going to meet him again ? 

“ Say,” said he frowning, “ I want my own clothes. I 
don’t want any new ones. I want my own! Say, I got 
some stuff in my pockets I don’t wantta have 
monkeyed with! ” 

“ All right,” she said cheerily, “ They’re put away 
safe. You can have them when you’re well.” But when he 
asked her suddenly what day it was she said vaguely 
“ Tuesday,” and went away. He was so tired then he 
went to sleep again and slept till they brought his din¬ 
ner, a big one, chicken and fixings and jelly, and a dish of 
ice cream! Oh, Gee! And then he went to sleep 
again. But in the morning—how many days was it 
then ? He woke to sudden consciousness of what he had to 
do and to sudden suspicion of the time. Billy was coming 
back to his own. His wilyness had returned. He smiled 
at the nurse ravishingly and asked for a newspaper, but 
when she brought it he pretended to be asleep, so she laid 
it down and went away softly. But he nabbed that paper 
with a weak hand as soon as her back was turned and read 
the date! His heart fell down with a dull thud. The 
third! This was the day of the trial! It couldn’t be! He 
read again. Was it really the day of the trial ? The paper 
that had the court program had been in his trousers 
pocket. He must have it at once. Perhaps he had made 
a mistake. Oh, gee! What it was to be helpless! Why, 
he was weaker than Aunt Saxon! 

He called the nurse crossly. She bustled in and told 
him the doctor had just said he might sit up to-morrow if 
he kept on without a temperature for twenty-four hours 
longer. But he paid no heed to her. He demanded his clothes 
with a young roar of a voice that made her open her eyes. 
Billy had heretofore been the meekest of meek patients. 
She was getting the voice and manner now that he gener- 





282 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


ally retained for family use. He told her there was some¬ 
thing in the pocket he must see right away, and he made 
such a fuss about it that she was afraid he would bring up 
his temperature again and finally agreed to get the clothes 
if he would lie real still and rest afterward. Billy dropped 
his head back on the pillow and solemnly said: 
“Aw’wright! ” He had visions of going to court in blue 
and white striped pajamas. It could be done, but he didn’t 
relish it. Still, if he had to—! 

The nurse brought his jacket and trousers. The 
sweater was awfully dirty she said, but she was finally 
prevailed upon to bring that too, and Billy obediently lay 
down with closed eyes and his arm stretched out comfort¬ 
ingly over the bundles. The nurse hovered round till he 
seemed to be asleep and then slipped out for a moment, and 
the instant her white skirt had vanished from the doorway 
Billy was alert. He fumbled the bundles open with 
nervous fingers and searched eagerly for the bit of paper. 
Yes, there it was and the date the third of September. 
Aw Gee! 

He flung back the neatly tucked sheets, poked a slim 
white foot that didn’t look like his at all into a trouser leg, 
paused for breath and dove the other in, struggled into his 
jacket and lay down again quickly under the sheet. Was 
that the nurse? 

He had to admit that he felt queer, but it would soon 
pass off, and anyhow if it killed him he had to go. Aw 
bah! What was a little sickness anyhow? If he stayed in 
the hospital any longer they’d make a baby out of him! 

The nurse had not returned. He could hear the soft 
plunk, plunk of her rubber heels on the marble steps. She 
was going down stairs. Now was his time! Of course 
he had no shoes and stockings, but what was a little thing 
like that? He grasped the bundle of sweater tightly and 
slid out of bed. His feet felt quite inadequate. In fact 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


283 


he began to doubt their identity. They didn't seem to be 
there at all when he stood on them, but he was not to be 
foiled by feet. If they meant to stick by him they’d gotta 
obey him. 

Slowly, cautiously, with his head swimming lightly on 
ahead of him and a queer gasp of emptiness in the region 
of his chest that seemed to need a great deal of breath, he 
managed a passage to the door, looked down the long 
white corridor with its open doors and cheerful voices, saw 
a pair of stairs to the right quite near by, and with his 
steadying hands on the cool white wall slid along the short 
space to the top step. It seemed an undertaking to get 
down that first step, but when that was accomplished he 
was out of sight and he sat down and slid slowly the rest 
of the way, wondering why he felt so rotten. 

At the foot of the long stairs there was a door, and 
strange it was made so heavy! He wondered a nurse could 
swing it open, just a mere girl! But he managed it at last, 
almost winded, and stumbled out on the portico that gave 
to the sea, a wide blue stretch before him. He stopped, 
startled, as if he had unexpectedly sighted the heavenly 
strand, and gazed blinking at the stretch of blue with the 
wide white shore and the boom of an organ following the 
lapping of each white crested wave. Those palm trees cer¬ 
tainly made it look queer like Saxy’s Pilgrim’s Progress 
picture book. Then the panic for home and his business 
came upon him and he slid weakly down the shallow white 
steps, and crunched his white feet on the gravel wincing. 
He had just taken to the grass at the edge and was man¬ 
aging better than he had hoped when a neat little coupe 
rounded the curve of the drive, and his favorite doctor 
came swinging up to the steps, eyeing him keenly. Billy 
started to run, and fell in a crumpled heap, white and 
scared and crying real tears, weak, pink tears! 

“ Why Billy! What are you doing here? ” The stern 




284 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


loving voice of his favorite doctor hung over him like a 
knife that was going to cut him off forever from life and 
light and forgiveness and all that he counted dear. 

But Billy stopped crying. 

“ Nothin,” he said, “ I just come out fer a walk! ” 

The doctor smiled. 

“ But I didn’t tell you you might, Billy boy! ” 

“ Had to,” said Billy. 

“ Well, you’ll find you’ll have to go back again, Billy. 
Come! ” and the doctor stooped his broad strong 
shoulders to pick up the boy. But Billy beat him 
off weakly: 

“ Say, now, Doc, wait a minute,” he pleaded, “ It’s 
jus’ this way. I simply gotta get back home t’day. I’m a 
very ’mportant witness in a murder case, See? My bes’ 
friend in the world is bein’ tried fer life, an’ he ain’t guilty, 
an’ I’m the only one that knows it fer sure, an’ can prove 
it, an’ I gotta be there. Why, Doc, the trial’s going on now 
an’ I ain’t there! It ud drive me crazy to go back an’ lay 
in that soft bed like a reg’lar sissy, an’ know he’s going to 
be condemned. I put it to you, Doc, as man to man, would 
you stand fer a thing like that? ” 

“ But Billy, suppose it should be the end of you! ” 

“ I sh’d worry, Doc! Ef I c’n get there in time an’ say 
what I want I ain’t carin ’fer anythin’ more in life I tell ye. 
Say, Doc, you wouldn’t stop me, would ya? Ef you did I’d 
get thar anyhow someway! ” 

The earnestness of the eager young face, wan in its 
illness, the light of love in the big gray eyes, went to the 
doctor’s heart. He gave the boy a troubled look. 

“ Where is it you want to go, Billy? ” 

“ Economy, Doc. It ain’t far, only two or three hours’ 
ride. I c’n get a jitney somewheres I guess ta take me. I’ll 
pay up ez soon as I get home. I got thirty dollars in the 
bank my own self.” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


285 


“Economy!” said the Doctor. “Impossible, Billy, it 
would kill you—! ” 

“ Then I’m goin’ anyhow. Good-by Doc! ” and he 
darted away from the astonished doctor and ran a rod or 
so before the doctor caught up with him and seized him 
firmly by his well shoulder: 

“ Billy, look here! ” said the Doctor, “If it’s as bad as 
that I’ll take you! ” 

“ Oh, would ya, Doc? Would ya? I’ll never forget 
it Doc—!” 

“ There now, Billy, never mind, son, you save your 
strength and let me manage this thing the right way. 
Couldn’t I telephone and have them hold up things a few 
days? That can be done you know.” 

“ Nothin’ doing Doc, there’s them that would hurry it 
up all the more if they thought I was cornin’ back. You get 
in Doc and start her up. I c’n drive myself if you’ll lend 
me the m’chine. P’raps you ain’t got time to go off ’ith me 
like this.” 

“ That’s all right, Billy. You and I are going on a 
little excursion. But first I’ve got to tell the nurse, or 
there’ll be all kinds of a time. Here, you sit in the 
machine.” The doctor picked him up and put him 
in and ran up the steps. Billy sat dizzily watching and 
wondering if he hadn’t better make his escape. Per¬ 
haps the Doc was just fooling him, but in a moment back 
he came again, with a nurse trailing behind with blankets 
and a bottle. 

“ We’re going to get another car, son, this one’s no 
good for such a trip. We’ll fix it so you can lie down and 
save your strength for when you get there. No,—son—I 
don’t mean the ambulance,” as he saw the alarm in Billy’s 
face, "just a nice big car. That’s all right, here she comes!” 

The big touring car came round from the back almost 
immediately, and the back seat was heaped with pillows 



286 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


and blankets and Billy tenderly placed among them where 
he was glad enough to lie down—and close his eyes. It 
had been rather strenuous. The nurse went back for his 
shoes, bringing a bottle of milk and his medicine. The 
Doctor got in the front seat and started. 

“ Now, son/’ he said, “You rest. You’ll need every 
bit of strength when you get there if we’re going to carry 
this thing through. You just leave this thing to me and I’ll 
get you there in plenty of time. Don’t you worry.” 

Billy with a smile of heavenly bliss over his newly 
bleached freckles settled back with dreamy eyes and 
watched the sea as they were passing swiftly by it, his 
lashes drooping lower and lower over his thin young 
cheeks. The doctor glancing back anxiously caught that 
look the mothers see in the young imps when they are 
asleep, and a tenderness came into his heart for the staunch 
loyal little sinner. 

Doctor Norris was a good scout. If he had got a soft 
snap of a job in that Shafton hospital, it was good practice 
of course, and a step to really big things where he wouldn’t 
be dependent upon rich people’s whims, but still he was a 
good scout. He had not forgotten the days of the grass¬ 
hopper, and Billy had made a great appeal to his heart. He 
looked at his watch, chose his roads, and put his machine 
at high speed. The sea receded, the Jersey pines whirled 
monotonously by, and by and by the hills began to crop up. 
Off against the horizon Stark mountain loomed, veiled 
with a purple haze, and around another curve Economy 
appeared, startlingly out of place with its smug red brick 
walks and its gingerbread porches and plastered tile 
bungalows. Then without warning Billy sat up. How 
long had that young scamp been awake ? Had he slept at 
all? He was like a man, grave and stern with business 
before him. The doctor almost felt shy about giving him 
his medicine. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


287 


“ Son, you must drink that milk,” he said firmly. 
“ Nothing doing unless you drink that! ” Billy drank it. 

“ Now where? ” asked the doctor as they entered the 
straggling dirty little town. 

“ That red brick building down the next block, ,, 
pointed Billy, his face white with excitement, his eyes 
burning like two dark blue coals. 

The big car drew up at the curb, and no one there to 
notice, for every body was inside. The place was jammed 
to the door. 

Cherry had come back late after lunch, her hat awry 
and signs of tears on her painted face. Her eyes were 
more obviously frightened and she whispered a message 
which was taken up to Mark. Mark lifted a haggard face 
to hear it, asked a question, bowed his head, and continued 
listening to the cross-examination of a man who said he 
had heard him threaten to kill Dolph the week before the 
murder down at Hagg’s Mills. When the witness was 
dismissed Mark whispered a word to his lawyer, the 
lawyer spoke to the judge and the judge announced that 
the prisoner wished to speak. Every eye was turned 
toward Mark as he rose and gave a sweeping glance around 
the room, his eyes lingering for just a shadow of an instant 
wistfully on the faces of the minister and his wife, then on 
again as if they had seen no one, and round to the 
judge’s face. 

It was just at this instant that Billy burst into the room 
and wedged his way fiercely between elbows, using his old 
football methods, head down and elbows out, and stood a 
moment breathless, taking it all in. 

Then Mark spoke: 

“ Your Honor, I wish to plead guilty to the charge! ” 

A great sigh like a sob broke over the hush in the 
court room and many people half rose to their feet as if in 
protest, but Billy made a dive up the aisle, self and 


288 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


sickness forgotten, regardless of courts or law or anything, 
and stood between the Judge and Mark: 

“ It ain’t so, an’ I can prove it! ” he shouted at the top 
of his lungs. 

The prosecuting attorney rose to a point of order like a 
bull dog snapping at his prey, the sergeant-at-arms rushed 
around like corn popping off in a corn popper, but Anthony 
Drew whispered a word to the Judge, and after order was 
restored Billy was called to the witness stand to tell 
his story. 

Doctor Norris standing squeezed at the back of the 
room looking for his quondam patient, recognized with 
a thrill the new Billy standing unafraid before all these 
people and speaking out his story in a clear direct way. 
Billy had etherealized during his illness. If Aunt Saxon 
had been there—she was washing for Gibsons that day 
and having her troubles with Mrs. Frost—she would 
scarcely have known him. His features had grown deli¬ 
cate and there was something strong and sweet about his 
mouth that surely never had been there before. But the 
same old forceful boy speech wherewith he had subdued 
enemies on the athletic fields, bullied Aunt Saxon, and put 
one over on Pat at the station, was still his own. He told 
the truth briefly and to the point, not omitting his own 
wrong doing in every particular, and he swayed that crowd 
as a great orator might have been proud to sway a congre¬ 
gation. They laughed till they cried and cried till they 
laughed again at Billy’s quaint phrases, and they enjoyed 
the detour—Oh how they enjoyed that detour! Even the 
Judge had twinkles in his eyes. 

For the first time since the trial began Mark was sit¬ 
ting up proudly, a warm look of vivid interest in his face, 
the cold mask gone. His eyes dwelt upon Billy with a look 
almost fatherly, at least brotherly. It was a startling con- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 289 

trast to what he had been all day. This was a dif¬ 
ferent man. 

Suddenly from the corner of the prosecution the low 
growl which had been gradually rising like a young storm, 
broke, and the prosecuting attorney arose and lifted his 
voice above all others: 

“ I protest your Honor, against this witness. He has 
mentioned no less than five different lies which he has told, 
and has narrated a number of episodes in which he delib¬ 
erately broke the law. Is it or is it not a misdemeanor 
for anyone to meddle with our Highroads in the manner 
that has just been described? By his own confession this 
young man is disqualified for a witness! By his own con¬ 
fession he is a law breaker and a liar! ” 

“ Aw Gee! ” broke forth Billy furiously, “ Didn't I 
tell ya I come here to tell the truth n’ get it off’n my chest ?” 

Someone put a strong hand on Billy and silenced him, 
and some one else rose to protest against the protestor, and 
the air grew tense with excitement once more. 

The prosecution declared that Billy was in league with 
Mark, that everybody knew he trailed him everywhere, 
therefore his testimony was worthless. He was probably 
bribed; there was nothing, absolutely nothing in the story 
the boy had told to prove anything. 

Billy was growing whiter and angrier, his eyes flash¬ 
ing, his fists clenched. His testimony was not going to be 
( accepted after all! It had been vain to bear the shame 
himself. Nothing, nothing that he could do would blot out 
the trouble because he had unfitted himself to blot it out. 
It had to be a witness who told the truth who would be 
believed. It had to be one with a good record to take 
away the shame! That was something like what Miss 
Marilyn said in Sunday School once, that only Jesus Christ 
could take the place of a sinner and make it right about 
our sinning because He had never sinned. It had sounded 

19 




290 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


like rot when she said it, but he began to understand what 
she meant now. Yes, that was it. Only God’s Son could 
do that and he, Billy Gaston, had tried to do it himself! 

The court room seemed to be very dark now. His 
head was whirling away and getting beyond his control. 
When he looked up he seemed to see it on the other side 
of the room. He did not recognize the two men in hand¬ 
cuffs that the Chief was bringing into the room. He did 
not hear what the Judge was saying. He had slumped in 
a little heap on the witness stand with his eyes closed, and 
his hands groping together. He thought that he was pray¬ 
ing to God’s Son to come and help Mark because he had 
failed. He wasn’t good enough and he had failed! 

The doctor had come with a bound up the aisle and was 
kneeling with Billy in his arms. Mark was leaning over 
the rail with a white anxious face. The minister was try¬ 
ing to make a way through the crowd, and the sergeant- 
at-arms was pushing the crowd back, and making a space 
about the unconscious boy. Some-one opened a window. 
The Chief and one of his men brought a cot. There was 
a pillow from the car, and there was that medicine again- 
bringing him back—just as he thought he had made God 
hear—! Oh, why did they bother him? ” 

Suddenly down by the door a diversion occurred. 
Someone had entered with wild burning eyes dressed in a 
curious assortment of garments. They were trying to put 
him out, but he persisted. 

The word was brought up: “ Someone has a very im¬ 
portant piece of evidence which he wishes to present.” 

Billy’s gray eyes opened as the man mounted to the 
witness stand. He was lying on the cot at one side and 
his gaze rested on the new witness, dazedly at first, and 
then with growing comprehension. Old Ike Fenner, the 
tailor, Cherry Fenner’s father! 

Mark was looking at Billy and had not noticed: 

But the man began to speak in a high shrill voice: 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


291 


“ I came to say that I’m the man that killed Dolph' 
Haskins! Mark Carter had nothin’ to do with it. I done 
it! I meant to kill him because he ruined the life of my 
little girl! My baby! ” 

There was a sudden catch in his voice like a great sob, 
and he clutched at the rail as if he were going to fall, but 
he went on, his eyes burning like coals: 

“ I shot him with Tom Petrie’s gun that I found atop 
o’ the door, an’ I put it back where I found it. You take 
my finger prints and compare ’em with the marks on the 
gun an’ the winder sill. You ask Sandy Robison! He 
seen me do it. You ask Cherry! She seen me too. She 
was facin’ the winder eatin’ her supper with that devil, 
and I shot him and she seen me! I did it—” 

His voice trailed off. He swayed and got down from 
the stand, groping his way as if he could not see. The 
crowd gave way with a curious shudder looking into his 
wild burning eyes as he passed. A girl’s scream back by the 
door rang through the court. The man moaned, put out 
his hands and fell forward. Kindly hands reached to catch 
him. The doctor left Billy and came to help. 

They carried him outside and laid him on the grass in 
front of the court house. The doctor used every restor¬ 
ative he had with him. Men hurried to the drug store. 
They tried everything, but all to no avail. Ike Fenner the 
tailor was dead! He had gone to stand before a 
higher court! 

When it was all over, the finger prints and the red 
tape, and the case had been dismissed, Mark came to Billy 
where he was lying in the big car waiting, with his eyes 
closed to keep back weak tears that would slip out now and 
then. He knelt beside the boy and touched his hand, the 
hand that looked so thin and weak and so little like Billy's: 

“ Kid,” he said gently, “ Kid, you’ve been a wonder! 
It was really you that saved me, Buddy! My Buddy! ” 

Billy's tears welled over at the tone, the words, the 


292 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


proud intimate name, but he shook his head slowly, sadly. 

“ No,” he said, “ No, it wasn’t me. I tried, but I 
wasn’t fit! It had to be Him. I didn’t understand! They 
wouldn’t believe me. But He came as soon as I ast! ” 

Mark looked at the doctor. 

“ Is he wandering a little ? ” he asked in a low tone : 

“ I shouldn’t wonder. He’s been through enough to 
make anyone wander. Here, son, take this.” 

Billy smiled and obediently accepted his medicine. 
Mark held his hand all the way home. He knew that Mark 
didn’t understand but he was too tired to tell him now. 
Sometime he would explain. Or perhaps Miss Lynn would 
explain it for him. He was going home, home to Saxy 
and Sabbath Valley and the bells, and Mark was free! He 
hadn’t saved him, but Mark was free! 

It was like a royal passage through the village as they 
came into Sabbath Valley, for everybody came out to wave 
at Mark and Billy. Even Mrs. Harricutt watched grimly 
from behind her Holland shades. But Billy was too weak 
to notice much, except to sense it distantly, and Mark 
would only lift his hat and bow, gravely, quietly as if it 
didn’t matter, just as he used to do when they carried him 
round on their shoulders after a football game, and he 
tried to get down and hide. Why did Mark still have that 
sad look in his eyes? Billy was too tired to think it out. 
He was glad when they reached Aunt Saxon’s door and 
Mark picked him up as he used to do when he was just a 
little kid, and carried him up to his room. Carried him 
up and undressed him, while Saxy heard the story from 
the doctor’s lips, and laughed and cried and laughed again. 
The nervy little kid! He would always be a “ little kid ” 
to Saxy, no matter what he did. 

He turned over in his own bed, his bed, and smelt the 
sweet breath of the honeysuckle coming in at the window, 
heard the thrushes singing their evening song up the 
street. The sea had been great, but Oh, you Sabbath 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


293 


Valley! Out there was the water spout, and some day he 
would be strong enough to shin down it, and up it again. 
He would play football this Fall, and run Mark’s car! 
Mark, grave, gentle, quiet, sitting beside him till he got 
asleep, and his mother not knowing, down the street, and 
Miss Lynn—! 

“ Mark—you’ll tell Miss Marilyn about it all?” He 
opened his eyes to murmur lazily, and Mark promised 
still gravely. 

He shut his eyes and drifted away. What was that 
the Chief had told him down at Economy in the car? 
Something about three strange detectives stepping off the 
train one day and nabbing Pat ? And Pat was up at Sing 
Sing finishing his term after A.W.O.L. Was that straight 
or only a dream ? And anyhow he didn’t care. He was 
home again, Home —and forgiven! 

Night settled sweetly down upon Sabbath Valley, hid¬ 
ing the brilliant autumn tinting of the street. Lynn had 
made a maple nut cake and set the table for two before 
she left the Carters, for her mother had slipped out of the 
court room and telephoned her, and a fire was blazing in 
the little parlor with the lace curtains and asters in every 
vase all gala for the returning son. The mother and son 
sat long before the fire, talking, pleasant converse, about 
the time when Mark would send for her to come and live 
with him, but not a word was said about the day. He saw 
that his friends had helped to save his mother this one 
great sorrow that she could not have borne, and he 
was grateful. 

Marilyn, up at the parsonage, with a great thankful¬ 
ness upon her, went about with smiling face. The burden 
seemed to have lifted and she was glad. 

But that night at midnight there came the doctor from 
Economy driving hard and stopping at the parsonage. 
Cherry Fenner was dying and wanted to see Miss Marilyn. 
Would she come? 


XXVI 


Cherry's little bedroom under the roof was bright 
with the confusion of cheap finery scattered everywhere 
and swept aside at the sudden entrance of the death angel. 
A neighbor had done her best to push away the crude 
implements of complexion that were littering the cheap oak 
bureau top, and the doctor’s case and bottles and glasses 
crowded out the giddy little accessories of beauty that 
Cherry had collected. Two chairs piled high with draggled 
finery, soiled work aprons and dresses made a forlorn and 
miscellaneous disorder in one corner, and the closet door 
sagged open with visions of more clothing hung many deep 
upon the few hooks. 

Mrs. Fenner stood at the head of the bed wringing her 
hands and moaning uncontrolledly, and Cherry, little 
Cherry, lay whitely against the pillow, the color all gone 
from her ghastly pretty little face, that had lately hid its 
ravished health and beauty behind a camouflage of paint. 
There were deep dark circles under the limpid eyes that 
now were full of mortal pain, and pitiful lines around the 
cherry mouth that had been wont to laugh so saucily. 

The doctor stood by the window with the attitude of 
grave waiting. The helpful neighbor lingered in the door¬ 
way, holding her elbows and taking minute note of 
Marilyn’s dress. This might be a sad time, but one had 
to live afterward, and it wasn’t every day you got to see a 
simple little frock with an air like the one the minister’s 
daughter wore. She studied it from neck to hem and 
couldn’t see what in the world there was about it anyway 
to make her look so dressed up. Not a scratch of trim¬ 
ming, not even a collar, and yet she could look like that! 

294 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


295 


Mercy! Was that what education and going to college did 
for folks? 

The light of a single unshaded electric bulb shone 
startlingly down to the bed, making plain the shadow of 
death even to an inexperienced eye. 

Marilyn knelt beside the bed and took Cherry’s cold 
little hand in her own warm one. The waxen eyelids flut¬ 
tered open, and a dart of something between fright and 
j pain went over her weird little face. 

“ Can I do anything for you Cherry? ” Marilyn’s voice 
was tender, pitiful. 

“ It’s too late/' whispered the girl in a fierce little 
whisper, “ Send ’em out— I—wantta— tell—you— 
someth—! ” The voice trailed away weakly. The doctor 
stepped over and gave her a spoonful of something, 
motioned her mother and the neighbor away, tiptoeing out 
himself and closing the door. The mother was sobbing 
wildly. The doctor’s voice could be heard quieting 
her coldly: 

The girl on the bed frowned and gathered effort 
to speak: 

“ Mark Carter—didn’t mean no harm—goin’—with 
me—!” she broke out, her breath coming in gasps, “He was 
tryin’—to stop me—goin’—with— Dolph—!” The eyes 
closed wearily. The lips were white as chalk. She seemed 
to have stopped breathing! 

“ It’s all right—Cherry—” Marilyn breathed softly, 
“ It’s all right—I understand! Don’t think any more 
about it! ” 

The eyes opened fiercely again, a faint determination 
shadowed round the little mouth: 

“You gotta know—!” she broke forth again with 
effort. “ He was good to me—when I was a little kid, and 
when he found I was in trouble—” the breath came piti¬ 
fully in gasps—“ he— offered— to —marry me!" 



290 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Marilyn’s fingers trembled but she held the little cold 
hand warmly and tried to keep back the tears that trembled 
in her eyes. 

“ He— didn’t— want to —/ He—just — done it to be 
kind! But I—couldn’t—see—it—! That’s—what—we— 
argued —/" Her voice grew fainter again. Marilyn with 
gentle controlled voice pressed the little cold hand again: 

“ Never mind, Cherry dear—it’s all right! ” 

Cherry’s eyes opened with renewed effort, anxiously: 

“ You won’t—blame—Mark—? He never—did— 
nothin’—wrong—! ” He’s — your —friend! ” 

“No, Cherry! It’s all right! ” 

The girl seemed to have lost consciousness again, and 
Marilyn wondered if she ought not to call the doctor, but 
suddenly Cherry screamed out: 

“ There he is again! He’s come for me! Oh— I’m— 
a—gon’ ta— die! An’ I’m afrrrr-aid! ” 

Cherry clutched at Marilyn’s arm, and looked up with 
far off gaze in which terror seemed frozen. 

The minister’s daughter leaned farther over and gath¬ 
ered the fragile form of the sick girl in her arms tenderly, 
speaking in a soothing voice: 

“ Listen Cherry. Don’t be afraid. Jesus is here. He’ll 
go with you! ” 

“ But I’m afraid of Jesus! ” the sharp little voice 
pierced out with a shudder, “ I haven’t been— good! ” 

“ Then tell Him you are sorry. You are sorry, 
aren’t you? ” 

“Oh, yes!” the weak voice moaned. “I—never— 
meant —no—harm! I only—wanted—a little—good 
time—! ” 

The eyes had closed again and she was almost gone. 
The doctor had come in and he now gave her another 
spoonful of medicine. Marilyn knew the time was short. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


297 


“ Listen, Cherry, say these words after me! ” Cherry’s 
eyes opened again and fastened on her face, eagerly: 

“ Jesus, I’m sorry—! ” 

( Jesus—I’m—sor-ry—!” repeated the weak voice 
in almost a whisper. 

“ Please forgive me,” said Marilyn slowly, distinctly. 

“ Please — for — give—! ” the slow voice repeated. 

“ And save me.” 

“— save—!” the voice was scarcely audible. 

The doctor came and stood close by the bed, looking 
down keenly, but Cherry roused once more and looked at 
them, her sharp little voice stabbing out into the 
silence piercingly, 

“ Is that— all? ” 

“ That is all,” said Marilyn with a ring in her voice, 
“Jesus died to take care of all the rest! You can just rest 
on Him! ” 

“ Oh-h!” The agony went out of the pinched little 
face, a half smile dawned and she sank into rest. 

As Marilyn went home in the dawn with the morning 
star beginning to pale, and the birds at their early worship, 
something in her own heart was singing too. Above the 
feeling of awe over standing at the brink of the river and 
seeing a little soul go wavering out, above even the wonder 
that she had been called to point the way, there sang in her 
soul a song of jubilation that Mark was exonerated from 
shame and disgrace. Whatever others thought, whatever 
she personally would always have believed, it still was 
great that God had given her this to make her know that 
her inner vision about it had been right. Perhaps, some¬ 
time, in the days that were to come, Mark would tell her 
about it, but there was time enough for that. Mark would 
perhaps come to see her this morning. She somehow felt 
sure that at least he would come to say he was glad she 
had stayed with his mother. It was like Mark to do that. 


298 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


He never let any little thing that was done for him or his 
pass unnoticed. 

But the morning passed and Mark did not come. The 
only place that Mark went was to see Billy. 

“ Billy, old man,” he said, sitting down by the edge of 
the bed where Billy was drowsing the early morning away, 
just feeling the bed, and sensing Saxy down there making 
chicken broth, and knowing that the young robins in the 
apple tree under the window were grown up and flown 
away. “ Billy, I can’t keep my promise to you after all. 
I’ve got to go away. Sorry, kid, but she’ll come to see you 
and I want you to tell her for me all about it. I’m not for¬ 
getting it, Kid, either, and you’ll know, all the rest of my 
life, you and I are buddies! Savvy, Kid? ” 

Billy looked at Mark with big understanding eyes. 
There was sadness and hunger and great self control in 
that still white face that he worshipped so devotedly. All 
was not well with his hero yet. It came to him vaguely 
that perhaps Mark too had even yet something to learn, 
the kind of thing that was only learned by going through 
fire. He struggled for words to express himself, but all 
he could find were: 

“I say, Mark, why’n’t’tya get it off’n yer chest? 
It’s great! ” 

Perhaps there wouldn’t have been another human in 
Sabbath Valley, except perhaps it might have been Marilyn 
who would have understood that by this low growled sug¬ 
gestion Billy was offering confession of sin as a remedy for 
his friend’s ailment of soul, but Mark looked at him keenly, 
almost tenderly for a long minute, and shook his head, 
his face taking on a grayer, more hopeless look as he said: 

“ I can’t, Kid. It’s too late! ” 

Billy closed his eyes for a moment. He felt it wasn’t 
quite square to see into his friend’s soul that way when 
he was off his guard, but he understood. He had passed 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


299 


that way himself. It came to him that nothing he could 
say would make any difference. He would have liked to 
tell of his own experience in the court room and how he 
had suddenly known that all his efforts to right his wrong 
had been failures, that there was only One who could do 
it, but there were no words in a boy’s vocabulary to say 
a thing like that. It sounded unreal. It had to be felt, and 
he found his heart kept saying over and over as he lay 
there waiting with closed eyes for Mark to speak: “ Oh, 
God! Why’n’tchoo show him Yerself? Why’n’tchoo 
show him Yerself ? ” He wondered if Miss Lynn couldn’t 
have shown Mark if he had only gone and talked it over 
with her. But Mark said it was too late, “Well, 
Why’n’tchoo show him Yerself, then? Why’n’tchoo show 
him Yerself, God,— please!” 

Mark got up with a long sigh: 

“ Well, s’long, Kid, till I see you again. And I won’t 
forget Kid, you know I won’t forget! And Kid, I’m 
leaving my gun with you. I know you’ll take good care 
of it and not let it do any damage. You might need it you 
know to take care of your Aunt, or— or— Miss 
Severn—or! ” 

“Sure! ” said Billy with shining eyes clasping the 
weapon that had been Mark’s proud possession for several 
years. “ Aw Gee! Ya hadn’t oughtta give me this! You 
might need it yourself.” 

“ No, Kid, I’d rather feel that you have it. I want to 
leave someone here to kind of take my place—watching— 
you know. There’ll be times—! ” 

“ Sure! ” said Billy, a kind of glory overspreading 
his thin eager face. “ Aw Gee! Mark! ” 

And long after Mark had gone, and the sound of his 
purring engine had died away in the distance, Billy lay 
back with the weapon clasped to his heart, and a weird 
kind of rhythm repeating itself over and over somewhere 


300 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


in his spirit: “ Why’n’tchoo show him Yerself, God? 
Why’n’tchoo show him Yerself? You will! I’ll bet You 
will! yet! ” 

And was that anything like the prayer of faith trans¬ 
lated into theological language ? 

Aunt Saxon went up tiptoe with the broth and thought 
he was asleep and tiptoed down again to keep it warm 
awhile. But Billy lay there and felt like Elisha after the 
mantle of the prophet Elijah had fallen upon him. It gave 
him a grand solemn feeling, God and he were somehow 
taking Mark’s place till Mark got ready to come back and 
do it himself. He was to take care of Sabbath Valley as 
far as in him lay, but more particularly of Miss 
Marilyn Severn. 

And then suddenly, without warning, Miss Marilyn 
herself went away, to New York she said, for a few weeks, 
she wasn’t sure just how long. But there was something 
sad in her voice as she said it, and something white about 
the look she wore that made him sure she was not going 
to the part of New York where Mark Carter lived. 

Billy accepted it with a sigh. Things were getting 
pretty dry around Sabbath Valley for him. He didn’t 
seem to get his pep back as fast as he had expected. For 
one thing he worried a good deal, and for another the 
doctor wouldn’t let him play baseball nor ride a bicycle yet 
for quite a while. He had to go around and act just like a 
“ gurrull! ” Aw Gee! Sometimes he was even glad to 
have Mary Little come across the street with her picture 
puzzles and stay with him awhile. She was real good com¬ 
pany. He hadn’t ever dreamed before that girls could be 
as interesting. Of course, Miss Marilyn had to be a girl 
once, but then she was Miss Marilyn. That was different. 

Then too, Billy hadn’t quite forgotten that first morn¬ 
ing that Saxy got her arms around him and cried over him 
glad tears, bright sweet tears that wet his face and made 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


SOI 


him feel like crying happy tears too. And the sudden sur¬ 
prising desire he felt to hug her with his well arm, and how 
she fell over on the bed and got to laughing because he 
pulled her hair down in his awkwardness, and pulled her 
collar crooked. Aw Gee! She was just Aunt Saxy and 
he had been rotten to her a lot of times. But now it was 
different. Somehow Saxy and he were more pals, or was 
it that he was the man now taking care of Saxy and not the 
little boy being taken care of himself ? Somehow during 
those weeks he had been gone Saxy had cried out the pink 
tears, and was growing smiles, and home was “ kinda 
nice ” after all. But he missed the bells. And nights 
before he got into bed he got to kneeling down regularly, 
and saying softly inside his heart: “ Aw Gee, God, please 
why’n’tcha make Mark understand, an’ why’n’tcha bring 
’em both home? ” 


XXVII 


Marilyn had not been in New York but a week before 
she met Opal. She was waiting to cross Fifth Avenue, 
and someone leaned out of a big limousine that paused for 
the congestion in traffic and cried: 

“ Why, if that isn’t Miss Severn from Sabbath Valley. 
Get in please, I want to see you.” 

And Lynn, much against her will, was persuaded to 
get in, more because she was holding up traffic than be¬ 
cause the woman in the limousine insisted: 

“ Fll take you where you want to go,” she said in 
answer to Lynn’s protests, and they rolled away up the 
great avenue with the moving throng. 

“ I’m dying to know what it is you’re making Laurie 
Shafton do,” said Opal eagerly, “ I never saw him so much 
interested in anything in my life. Or is it you he’s inter¬ 
ested in. Why, he can’t talk of anything else, and he’s 
almost stopped going to the Club or any of the house 
parties. Everybody thinks he’s perfectly crazy. He won’t 
drink any more either. He’s made himself quite notorious. 
I believe I heard some one say the other day they hadn’t 
even seen him smoking for a whole week. You certainly 
are a wonder.” 

“ You’re quite mistaken,” said Lynn, much amused, 
“ I had nothing to do with Mr. Shafton’s present interest, 
except as I happened to be the one to introduce him to it. I 
haven’t seen him but twice since I came to New York, and 
then only to take him around among my babies at the Set¬ 
tlement and once over to the Orphans’ Home, where I’ve 
been helping out while an old friend of mine with whom I 
worked in France is away with her sick sister.” 

“ For mercy’s sake l You don’t mean that Laurie con- 

302 


.THE CITY OF FIRE 


303 


sented to go among the poor? I heard he’d given a lot of 
money to fix up some buildings, but then all the best men 
are doing things like that now. It’s quite the fad. But 
to go himself and see the wretched little things, Ugh! I 
don’t see how he could. He must be quite crazy about you 
I’m sure if he did all that for you.” 

“ Oh, he seemed to want to see them,” said Lynn 
lightly, “ and he suggested many of the improvements that 
he is making himself. They tell me he has proved a great 
helper, he is on hand at all hours superintending the build¬ 
ing himself, and everybody is delighted with him—! ” 

“ Mmmm! ” commented Opal looking at Marilyn 
through the fringes of her eyes. “ You really are a wonder. 
And now that you are in New York I’m going to introduce 
you to our crowd. When can you come? Let’s see. To¬ 
morrow is Sunday. Will you spend the evening with me 
to-morrow? I’ll certainly show you a good time. We’re 
going to motor to—” 

But Lynn was shaking her head decidedly: 

“ I couldn’t possibly spare a minute, thank you. I’m 
only out on an errand now. I’m needed every instant at 
the Home! ” 

“ For mercy sake! Hire someone to take your place 
, then. I want you. You’ll be quite a sensation I assure 
you. Don’t worry about clothes, if you haven’t anything 
along. You can wear one of my evening dresses. We’re 
almost of a size.” 

“ No,” said Lynn smiling, “ It simply isn’t possible. 
And anyway, don’t you remember Sabbath Valley? I 
don’t go out to play Sunday nights you know.” 

“ Oh, but this is New York! You can’t bring Sabbath 
I Valley notions into New York.” 

Lynn smiled again: 

“ You can if they are a part of you,” she said, “ Come 
in and see how nicely I’m fixed.” 





304 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


Opal looked up at the beautiful building before which 
they were stopping. 

“Why, where is this?” she asked astonished, “I 
thought you were down in the slums somewhere.” 

“This is a Home for little orphan children kept up by 
the Salvation Army. Come in a minute and see it.” 

Following a whim of curiosity Opal came in, and was 
led down a long hall to a great room where were a hundred 
tiny children sitting on little chairs in a big circle playing 
kindergarten games. The children were dressed in neat 
pretty frocks such as any beloved children would wear, with 
bright hair ribbons and neckties, and each with an individ¬ 
uality of its own. The room was sunny and bright, with 
a great playhouse at one end, with real windows and furni¬ 
ture in it and all sorts of toboggan slides and swings and 
kiddy cars and everything to delight the soul of a child. 
On a wide space between two windows painted on the 
plaster in soft wonderful coloring blended into the gray 
tint of the wall, there glowed a life size painting of the 
Christ surrounded by little children, climbing upon His 
knees and listening to Him as He smiled and talked 
to them. 

Opal paused in the doorway and looked at the picture 
first, shyly, shamedly, as though it were no place for her 
to enter, then curiously at the little children, with a kind of 
wistful yearning, as if here were something she had missed 
of her own fault. Lynn called out a charming baby and 
made her shake hands and bow and say a few listing 
smiling words. Opal turned to Lynn with a strangely 
subdued look and spoke in a moved tone: 

“ I guess you’re right,” she said, “ You wouldn’t fit at 
my company. You’re different! But some day I’m 
coming after you and bring you home all by yourself for a 
little while. I want to find out what it is you have that 
I need.” 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


305 


Then she turned with swift steps and went down the 
hall and out the door to her waiting limousine, and Lynn 
smiled wonderingly as she saw her whirled away into the 
world again. 

Lynn had not seen Mark. 

Laurie Shafton had called upon her many times since 
those two trips they had taken around the settlements and 
looking over his condemned property, but she had been 
busy, or out somewhere on her errands of mercy, so that 
Laurie had got very little satisfaction for his trouble. 

But Mark had seen Lynn once, just once, and that the 
first time she had gone with Laurie Shafton, as they were 
getting out of his car in front of one of his buildings. 
Mark had slipped into a doorway out of sight and watched 
them, and after they passed into the building had gone on, 
his face whiter and sadder than before. That was all. 

Marilyn was to spend only a month in New York, as 
at first planned, but the month lengthened into six weeks 
before the friend whose place she was taking was able to 
return, and two days before Marilyn was expecting to start 
home there came a telephone message from her mother: 

“ Lynn, dear, Mrs. Carter is very low, dying, we think, 

[ and we must find Mark at once! There is not a minute to 
lose if he wants to see her alive. It is a serious condition 
brought on by excitement. Mrs. Harricutt went there to 
call yesterday while everybody else was at Ladies’ Aid. 
And Lynn, she told her about Mark! Now, Lynn, can 
you get somebody to go with you and find Mark right 
away? Get him to come home at once ? Here is the last ad¬ 
dress he gave, but they have no telephone and we dare not 
wait for a telegram. See what you can do quickly! ” 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon when this message 
came. Lynn put on a uniform of dark blue serge and a 
poke bonnet that was at her disposal whenever she had 
need of protection, and hurried out. 

20 



306 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


She found the address after some trouble, but was told 
that the young gentleman was out. No one seemed to 
know when he would return. 

Two or three other lodgers gathered curiously, one 
suggesting a restaurant where he might be found, another 
a club where he sometimes went and a third laughed and 
called out from half way up the stairs: 

“ You’ll find him at the cabaret around the corner by 
ten o’clock to-night if you don’t find him sooner. He’s 
always there when he’s in town.” 

Sick at heart Lynn went on her way, trying carefully 
each place that had been suggested but finding no trace of 
him. She met with only deference for her uniform wher¬ 
ever she went, and without the slightest fear she travelled 
through streets at night that she would scarcely have liked 
to pass alone in the daytime in her ordinary garb. But all 
the time her heart was praying that she might find Mark 
before it was too late. She tried every little clue that was 
given her, hoping against hope that she would not have 
to search for her old friend in a cabaret such as she knew 
that place around the corner must be. But it was almost 
ten o’clock and she had not found Mark. She went back 
to the first address once more, but he had not come, and 
so she finally turned her steps toward the cabaret. 

Sadly, with her heart beating wildly, hoping, yet fear¬ 
ing to find him, she paused just inside the doors and looked 
around, trying to get used to the glare and blare, the 
jazz and the smoke, and the strange lax garb, and to dif¬ 
ferentiate the individuals from the crowd. 

Food and drink, smoke and song, wine and dance, flesh 
and odd perfumes! Her soul sank within her, and she 
turned bewildered to a servitor at the door. 

“ I wonder, is there any way to find a special person 
here ? I have a very important message.” 




THE CITY OF FERE 


307 


The man bent his head deferentially as though to 
one from another world, “ Who did you want, Miss? ” 

“ Mr. Mark Carter,” said Marilyn, feeling the color 
rise in her cheeks at letting even this waiter see that she 
expected to find Mark Carter here. 

The man looked up puzzled. He was rather new at the 
place. He summoned another passing one of his kind : 

“Carter, Carter?” the man said thoughtfully, “Oh, 
yes, he’s the guy that never drinks! He’s over there at 
the table in the far corner with the little dancer lady—” 
The waiter pointed and Lynn looked. “ Would you like 
me to call him, Miss? ” Lynn reflected quickly. Perhaps 
he might try to evade her. She must run no risks. 

“ Thank you, I will go to him,” she said, and straight 
through the maze of candle lighted tables, and whirling 
dancers, in her quiet holy garb, she threaded her way 
’ hastily, as one might have walked over quicksands, with 
! her eye fixed upon Mark. 

She came and stood beside him before he looked up and 
saw her, and then he lifted his eyes from the face of the 
girl with whom he was talking, and rose suddenly to his 

> feet, his face gone white as death, his eyes dark with dis- 

> approval and humiliation. 

“ Marilyn! ” His voice was shaking. He knew her 
instantly in spite of poke bonnet and uniform. She was 
the one thought present with him all the while, perhaps for 
years wherever he had been. But he did not look glad to 
see her. Instead it was as if his soul shrank shamedly from 
her clear eyes as she looked at him: 

Marilyn had not known what she was going to say to 
him when she found him. She did not stop to think now. 

“ Mark, your mother wants you. She is dying! You 
must come quick or she will be gone! ” 

Afterwards she repeated over the words to herself again 





308 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


and again as one might do penance, blaming herself that she 
had not softened it, made it more easy for him to bear. 
Yet at the time it seemed the only thing there was to say, 
at such a time, in such a place. But at the stricken look 
upon his face her heart grew tender. “ Come,” she said 
compassionately, “ We will go! ” 

They went out into the night and it was as if they had 
suddenly changed places, as if she were the protector and 
he the led. She guided him the quickest way. There was 
only a chance that they might catch the midnight train, 
but there was that chance. Into the subway she dived, 
he following, and breathless, they brought up at the Penn¬ 
sylvania station at their train gate as it was being closed, 
and hurried through. 

All through that agonized night they spoke but few 
words, those two who had been so much to one another 
through long happy years. 

“But you are not going too?” he spoke suddenly 
roused from his daze as the train started. 

“ Yes, I am going too, of course, Mark,” she said. 

He bowed his head and almost groaned: 

“ I am not worthy,—Marilyn! ” 

“ That— has nothing to do with it! ” said Marilyn 
sadly, “ It never will have anything to do with it! It 
never did! ” 

Mark looked at her, with harrowed eyes, and dropped 
his gaze. So he sat, hour after hour, as the train rushed 
along through the night. And Marilyn, with head slightly 
bent and meek face, beneath the poke bonnet with its 
crimson band, was praying as she rode. Praying in other 
words the prayer that Billy murmured beside his bed 
every night. 

But Billy was not lying in his bed that night, sleeping 
the sleep of the just. He was up and on the job. He was 
sitting in the Carter kitchen keeping up the fires, making a 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


809 


cup of tea for the nurse and the doctor, running the endless 
little errands, up to the parsonage for another hot water 
bag, down to the drug store for more aromatic spirits of 
ammonia, fixing a newspaper shade to dull the light in 
the hall, and praying, all the time praying: “ Oh, God, 

ain’tcha gonta leave her stay till Mark gets here ? Ain’tcha 
gonta send Mark quick? You know best I ’spose, but 
ain’tcha gonta? ” and then “ Aw Gee! I wisht Miss Lynn 
was here 1 ” 

In the chill before the dawning the two stepped down 
from the train at a little flag station three miles from Sab¬ 
bath Valley on the upper road that ran along the Ridge. 
They had prevailed upon the conductor to let them off 
there. Mark had roused enough for that. And now 
that they were out in the open country he seemed to 
come to himself. He took care of Lynn, making her take 
his arm, guiding her into the smooth places, helping her 
over rough places. He asked a few questions too. How 
did she know of his mother’s condition? How long had 
she been this way? Had she any idea that his mother’s 
heart was affected? Did she have a shock? ” 

Lynn did not tell all she knew. It was hard enough 
without that. He need not know that it was the knowledge 
of his disgrace that had brought her to the brink of death. 

So, walking and talking almost as in the old days, they 
passed into Sabbath Valley and down the street, and 
Christie McMertrie listening perhaps for this very thing, 
crept from her bed in her long flannel night gown, and big 
ruffled night cap, and looked out the window to see them go 
by. “ Bless them! ” she breathed and crept back to her 
bed again. She had nursed all day, and all the night be¬ 
fore, and would have been there too to-night, only Mary 
Rafferty took things in her own hands and had her go to 
bed, herself taking charge. Mrs. Duncannon was there 
too. There really was no need of her, but Christie could not 





310 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


sleep, and after they passed she rose and dressed and slip¬ 
ped down the street with a hot porridge that had been 
cooking on the stove all night, and the makings of a good 
breakfast in her basket on her arm. 

Mark Carter reached home in time to take his mother 
in his arms and bid her good-bye. That was alk She 
roused at his voice and touch, and reached out her little 
pretty hands toward him. He took her in his big strong 
arms and held her, kissed her with tender lips and she 
drew a beautiful smile of perfect content and slipped away, 
with the graying golden hair straying out over Mark’s 
sleeve to the pillow in a long curl, and a quiver of her last 
smile on the pretty curve of her lips, as if this was all that 
she had waited for, the little pretty girl that had gone to 
school so long ago with golden hair and a smile. Billy, 
standing awed in the doorway whither he had come to say 
there was more hot water ready, caught the vision of her 
face, remembered those school days, and felt a strange 
constriction in his throat. Some day Saxy would have to 
go like that, and would show the little girl in her face too, 
and he maybe would have to hold her so and think of how 
cross he had been. Aw Gee! Whattaqueer thing life was 
anyhow! Well, hadn’t his prayer been answered? Didn’t 
Mark get here in time? Well, anyhow it was likely better 
for Mrs. Carter to go. But it was rotten for Mark. Aw 
Gee! Mark! Was this the way he had to learn it ? Aw Gee! 
Well, God would have to show him. He couldn’t dope it 
out anyhow. 

During the days that followed Mark hardly stirred 
from the side of the pretty little clay that had been his 
mother except when they forced him for a little while. An 
hour before the service he knelt alone beside the casket, 
and the door opened and Marilyn came softly in, closing it 
behind her. She walked over to Mark and laid her hand 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


311 


on his hand that rested over his mother’s among the 
flowers, and she knelt beside him and spoke softly: 

“ Oh, God, help Mark to find the light! ” 

Then the soul of Mark Carter was shaken to the depths 
and suddenly his self control which had been so great was 
broken. His strong shoulders began to shake with sobs, 
silent, hard sobs of a man who knows he has sinned, and 
tears, scalding tears from the depths of his self-con¬ 
tained nature. 

Marilyn reached her arm out across his shoulders as a 
mother would try to protect a child, and lifted her face 
against his, wet with tears and kissed him on his fore¬ 
head. Then she left him and went quietly out. 

******** 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Harricutt with satisfaction as she 
walked home after the funeral with Christie McMertrie, 
“ I’m glad to see that Mark Carter has a little proper feel¬ 
ing at last. If he’d showed it sooner his ma mighta ben in 
the land of the living yet.” 

Christie’s stern face grew sterner as she set her teeth 
and bit her tongue before replying. Then she said with 
more brrrr than usual in her speech: 

Martha Harricutt, there’s na land that’s sa livin’ as 
tha land where Mark Carter’s mither has ganged tae, but 
there’s them that has mair blame to bear fer her gaein’ than 
her bonny big son, I’m thinkin’, an’ there’s them in this 
town that agrees with me too, I know full well.” 

Down in front of the parsonage the minister had his 
arm around Mark Carter’s shoulders and was urging him: 

“ Son, come in. We want you. Mother wants you, I 
want you. Marilyn wants you. Come son, come! ” 

But Mark steadily refused, his eyes downcast, his face 
sad, withdrawn: 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


312 


“ Mr. Severn, I’ll come to-morrow. I can't come to¬ 
night. I must go home and think! ” 

“ And you will promise me you will not leave without 
coming, Mark?” asked the minister sadly when he saw 
that it was no use. 

“Yes, I will promise!” Mark wrung the minister’s 
hand in a warm grip that said many things he could not 
speak, and then he passed on to his lonely home. But it 
was not entirely empty. Billy was there, humbly, silently, 
with dog-true eyes, and a grown up patient look on his 
tired young face. He had the coffee pot on the stove and 
hot sausages cooking on the stove, and a lot of Saxy’s 
doughnuts and a pie on the table. Billy stayed all night 
with Mark. He knew Saxy would understand. 


XXVIII 


In the middle of the night the fire bell rang out wildly. 
Three minutes later Mark and Billy were flying down the 
street, with Tom McMertrie and Jim Rafferty close after 
and a host of other tried and true, with the minister on the 
other side of the street. The Fire Company of Sabbath 
Valley held a proud record, and the minister was an active 
member of it. 

The fire was up in the plush mill and had already 
spread to a row of shackley tenements that the owners of 
the mills had put up to house the foreign labor that they 
had put in. They called them “ apartment ” houses, but 
they were so much on the order of the city tenements of 
several years back that it made Lynn's heart ache when 
she went there to see a little sick child one day. Right in 
the midst of God’s trees and mountains, a man for money 
had built a death trap, tall, and grim and dark, with small 
rooms and tiny windows, built it with timbers too small 
for safety, and windows too few for ventilation, and here 
an increasing number of families were herded, in spite of 
the complaints of the town. 

“ I ben thenkin’ it would coom,” said Tom as he took 
long strides. “ It's the apartmints fer sure, Jimmy. We 
better beat it. There’ll be only a meenit er so to get the 
childer oot, before the whole thing’s smoke! ” 

They were all there, the doctor, the blacksmith, the 
postmaster, the men from the mills, and the banks, and the 
stores. Economy heard the bells—for Marilyn had hur¬ 
ried to the church and added the fire chime to the call—and 
came over with their little chemical engine. Monopoly 

! heard and hurried their brand new hook and ladder up the 
valley road, but the fire had been eating long in the heart 

313 






314 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


of the plush mill and laughed at their puny streams of 
water forced up from the creek below, laughed at the 
chemicals flung in its face like drops of rain on a sizzling 
red hot stove. It licked its lips over the edge of the cliff 
on which it was built, and cracked its jaws as it devoured 
the mill, window by window, section by section, leaping 
across with an angry red tongue to the first tall building by 
its side. 

The fire had worked cunningly, for it had crept out of 
sight to the lower floors all along the row, and unseen, un¬ 
known, had bitten a hold on each of those doomed buildings 
till when the men arrived it went roaring ghoulishly up the 
high narrow stairs cutting off all escape from above, and 
making entrance below impossible. Up at the windows 
the doomed people stood, crying, praying, wringing their 
hands, and some losing their heads and trying to jump out. 

The firemen were brave, and worked wonders. They 
flung up ladders in the face of the flames. They risked 
their lives every step they took, and brought out one after 
another, working steadily, grimly, rapidly. And none 
were braver among them all than Mark Carter and the 
minister, each working on the very top of a tall treacherous 
ladder, in the face of constant danger, bringing out one 
after another until the last. 

The next house to the mill had caved in, and Mark had 
come down just in time with an old woman who was bed¬ 
ridden and had been forgotten. The workers had paused 
an instant as the horrible sound of falling timbers rent 
through the other noises of that horrible night, and then 
hurried to increase their vigilance. There were people in 
the top floor of the next house and it would go next. Then 
the word went forth that no more must go up the ladder. 
The roof was about to fall in, and a young mother shrieked, 
“My baby! My baby! She’s up in the bed. I thought 
Bob had her, but he couldn’t get up! ” Mark Carter looked 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


315 


at her sharply. “ Which window? ” he asked, and was up 
the ladder before detaining hands could reach him, and 
Billy, sliding under the arm of the Fire Chief, swung up 
just behind. 

The crowd watched breathless as they mounted round 
after round, Aunt Saxon standing with a shawl over her 
head and gasping aloud, “Oh Willie!” and then standing 
still in fear and pride, the tears streaming down a smiling 
countenance on which the red glare of the fire shone. The 
ladder was set crazily against the flaming window and 
swayed with their weight. Every step seemed as if it 
would topple the building, yet the ladder held, and Mark 
sprang through the blazing window out of sight. It 
seemed an eternity till he returned bringing a tiny bundle 
with him, and handing it out to Billy waiting below. 

The boy received as it had been a holy honor, that lit¬ 
tle bundle of humanity handed through the fire, and came 
solemnly down amid the breathless gaze of the crowd, but 
when they looked to the top again Mark had disappeared! 

A murmur of horror went round the throng, for the 
flames were licking and snapping, and the roof seemed to 
vibrate and quiver like a human thing. Then before any 
one could stop him or even saw what he was going to do, 
the minister sprang forward up the ladder like a cat, two 
rounds at a time,—three! He dashed through the fire and 
was gone! 

For an instant it seemed that the people would go mad 
with the horror of it. Those two! Even the Fire Chief 
paused and seemed petrified. It was Billy who sensed the 
thing to do. 

“ Getcher canvas man ? Are ya’ asleep ? ” 

And instantly a great piece of canvas was spread and 
lifted. But the building tottered, the flames ate on, and 
the window seemed entirely enveloped. The moment 
lasted too long for the hearts that waited. A groan rent 





316 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


the air. Then suddenly a breath seemed to part the flames 
and they saw the minister coming forward with Mark in 
his arms! 

It was just at this instant that Lynn came flying down 
the street. She had kept the bells going till she knew all 
the help had come from a distance, and now she was com¬ 
ing to see if there was anything else for her to do. There 
before her she saw her father standing in that awful set¬ 
ting of fire, with Mark limp and lifeless in his arms! Then 
the flames licked up and covered the opening once more. 
Oh, God! Were they both gonef 

Only for an instant more the suspense lasted, and then 
the cateclysm of fire came. The roof fell carrying with it 
the floors as it went, down, down, down, shuddering like a 
human thing as it went, the rain of fire pouring up and 
around in great blistering flakes and scorching the on¬ 
lookers and lighting their livid faces as they stood 
transfixed with horror at the sight. 

The canvas fluttered uselessly down and fire showered 
thick upon it. Timbers and beams crumbled like paper 
things and were no more. The whole flimsy structure 
had caved in! 

Paralyzed with terror and sorrow the firemen stood 
gazing, and suddenly a boy’s voice rang out: “ Aw Gee! 
Git to work there! Whatterya doin’ ? Playin’ dominoes ? 
Turn that hose over there! That’s where they fell. Say, 
you Jim, get that fire hook and lift that beam—! Aw Gee! 
Ya ain’t gonta let ’em die, are ya,— ? Them two! ” 

Billy had seized a heavy hose and was turning it on a 
central spot and Jim Rafferty caught the idea and turned 
his stream that way, and into the fire went the brave men, 
one and another, instantly, cheerfully, devotedly, the men 
who loved the two men in there. Dead or alive they should 
be got out if it killed them all. They would all die together. 
The Fire Chief stood close to Billy, and shouted his direc- 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


317 


tions, and Billy worked with the tallest of them, black, 
hoarse and weary. 

It seemed ages. It was hours. It was a miracle! But they 
got those two men out alive! Blackened and bruised and 
broken, burned almost beyond recognition, but they were 
alive. They found them lying close to the front wall, their 
faces together, Mark’s body covered by the minister’s. 

Tender hands brought them forth and carried them 
gently on stretchers out from the circle of danger and 
noise and smoke. Eagerly they were ministered to, with 
oil and old linen and stimulants. There were doctors from 
Economy and one from Monopoly besides the Sabbath 
! Valley doctor, who was like a brother to the minister and 
had known Mark since he was born. They worked as if 
their lives depended upon it, till all that loving skill could 
do was done. 

Billy, his eyelashes and brows gone, half his hair 
singed off, one eye swollen shut and great blisters on his 
hands and arms, sat huddled and shivering on the ground 
between the two stretchers. The fire was still going on 
but he was “ all in.” The only thing left he could do was 
to bow his bruised face on his trembling knees and pray: 

“ Oh God , Ain’t You gonta let ’em live— please! ” 

They carried Mark to the Saxon cottage and laid him 
on Billy’s bed. There was no lack of nurses. Aunt Saxon 
and Christie McMertrie, the Duncannons and Mary 
Rafferty, Jim too, and Tom. It seemed that everybody 
claimed the honors. The minister was across the street 
in the Little House. They dared not move him farther. 
Of the two the case of the minister was the most hopeless. 
He had‘borne the burden of the fall. He had been struck 
I by the falling timbers, his body had been a cover for 
the younger man. In every way the minister had not 
saved himself. 

The days that followed were full of anxiety. There 





318 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


were a few others more or less injured in the fire, for there 
had been fearless work, and no one had spared himself. 
But the two who hung at the point of death for so long 
were laid on the hearts of the people, because they were 
dear to almost every one. 

Little neighborhood prayer meetings sprang up quietly 
here and there, beginning at Duncannons. The neighbor on 
either side would come in and they would just drop down 
and pray for the minister, and for “ that other dear brave 
brother.” Then the Littles heard of it and called in a few 
friends. One night when both sufferers were at the crisis 
and there seemed little hope for the minister, Christie 
McMertrie called in the Raffertys and they were just on 
the point of kneeling down when Mrs. Harricutt came to 
the door. She had been crying. She said she and her 
husband hadn’t slept a wink the night before, they were 
so anxious for the minister. Christie looked at her severely, 
but remembering the commands about loving and for¬ 
giving, relented: 

“ Wull then, come on ben an’ pray. Tom, you go call 
her husband! This is na time fer holdin’ grudges. But 
mind, wumman, if ye coom heer to pray ye must pray with 
as mooch fervor for the healin’ o’ Mark Carter as ye do 
fer the meenister! He’s beloved of the Lord too, an’ the 
meenister nigh give his life for him.” 

And Mrs. Harricutt put up her apron to her eyes and 
entered the little haircloth parlor, while Tom, with a wry 
face went after the elder. The elder proved that under¬ 
neath all his narrowness and prejudice he had a grain of 
the real truth, for he prayed with fervor that the Lord 
would cleanse their hearts from all prejudice and open their 
minds to see with heavenly vision that they might have 
power in prayer for the healing of the two men. 

So, through the whole little village breaches were 
healed, and a more loving feeling prevailed because the 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


319 


bond of anxiety and love held them all together and drew 
them nearer to their God. 

At last the day came when Mark, struggling up out of 
the fiery pit of pain, was able to remember. 

Pain, fire, flame, choking gases, smoke, remorse, 
despair! It was all vague at first, but out of it came the 
memory slowly. There had been a fire. He had gone 
back up the ladder after Mrs. Blimm’s baby. He remem¬ 
bered groping for the child in the smoke filled room, and 
bringing it blindly through the hall and back to the win¬ 
dow where the ladder was, but that room had all been in 
flames. He had wished for a wet cloth across his face. 
He could feel again the licking of the fire as he passed the 
doorway. A great weight had been on his chest. His heart 
seemed bursting. His head had reeled, and he had come to 
the window just in time. Some one had taken the child— 
was it Billy ?—or he would have fallen. He did fall. The 
memory pieced itself out bit by bit. He remembered 
thinking that he had entered the City of Fire literally at 
! last, “the minarets ” already he seemed to descry “gleam- 
! ing vermilion as if they from the fire had issued.” It was 
curious how those old words from Dante had clung in his 
memory. “ Eternal fire that inward burns.” He thought 
he was feeling now in his body what his soul had ex¬ 
perienced for long months past. It was the natural ending, 
the thing he had known he was coming to all along, the 
i road of remorse and despair. A fire that goes no more 
out! And this would last forever now! Then, someone, 

: some strong arm had lifted him—God’s air swept in—and 
’ for an instant there seemed hope. But only that little 
J . breath of respite and there came a cry like myriads of lost 
souls. They were falling, falling, down through fire, with 
| fire above, below, around, everywhere. Down, down,— 
an abysmal eternity of fire, till his seared soul writhed 




320 


THE CITY OF FIFE 


from his tortured body, and stood aside looking on 
at himself. 

There, there he lay, the Mark Carter that had started 
with life so fair, friends, prospects, so proud that he was 
a man, that he could conquer and be brave—so blest with 
opening life, and heaven’s high call! And then—in one 
day—he had sinned and lost it all, and there he lay, a white 
upturned face. That was himself, lying there with face 
illumined by the fire, and men would call him dead! But 
he would not be dead! He would be living on with that 
inward fire, gnawing at his vitals, telling him continually 
what he might have been, and showing him what high 
heaven was that he had had, and lost. He saw it now. He 
had deliberately thrown away that heaven that had been 
his. He saw that hell was hell because he made it so, it 
was not God that put him there, but he had chosen there 
to go. And still the fire burned on and scorched his poor 
soul back into the body to be tortured more. The long 
weeks upon that bed seemed like an infinite space of burn¬ 
ing rosy, oily flames poured upward from a lake of fire, 
down through which he had been falling in constant and 
increasing agony. 

And now at last he seemed to be flung upon this peace¬ 
ful shore where things were cool and soothing for a brief 
respite, that he might look off at where he had been float¬ 
ing on that molten lake of fire, and understand it all before 
he was flung back. And it was all so very real. With his 
eyes still closed he could hear the rushing of the flames 
that still seemed ascending in columns out a little way from 
shore, he could see through his eyelids the rosy hue of livid 
waters—of course it was all a hallucination, and he was 
coming to himself, but he had a feeling that when he was 
fully awake it would be even more terrible than now. Two 
grim figures, Remorse and Despair, seemed waiting at 
either hand above his bed to companion him again when 
he could get more strength to recognize them, And so he 




THE CITY OF FIRE 


321 


lay thus between life and death, and faced what he had 
done. Hours and hours he faced it, when they knew not 
if he was conscious yet, going over and over again those 
sins which he knew had been the beginning of all his walk 
away from Hope. On through the night and into the 
next morning he lay thus, sometimes drowsing, but most 
of the time alert and silent. 

It was a bright and sparkling morning. There was a 
tang of winter in the air. The leaves were gone from the 
apple trees at the window and the bare branches tapped 
against the water spout like children playing with a rattle. 
A dog barked joyously, and a boy on the street shouted out 
to another— Oh, to he a hoy once more! And suddenly 
Mark knew Billy was sitting there. He opened his eyes 
and smiled: There were bandages around his face, but 
he smiled stiffly, and Billy knew he was smiling. 

“ Kid/’ he said hoarsely from out the bandages, “ This 
is God’s world.” It seemed to be a great thought that he 
had been all this time grasping, and had to utter. 

“ Sure! ” said Billy in a low happy growl. 

A long time after this, it might have been the next day, 
he wasn’t sure, or perhaps only a few minutes, he came at 
another truth: 

“Kid, you can’t get away from God—evenwhenyou try.” 

“ I’ll say not,” said Billy. 

“ But—when you’ve sinned—! ” speculatively. 

“ You gotta get it off yer chest.” 

“ You mean—confess? ” 

“ Sure thing. Miss Lynn tells us in Sunday School 
about a fella in the Bible got downta eatin’ with the pigs 
in a far country, an’ when he come to himself he thought 
about his father’s servants, an’ he said ‘ I’ll get up and 
beat it home an’ say I’m sorry! ’ ” 

“I know,” said Mark, and was still the rest of the day. 
But the next morning he asked the doctor how soon he 
might get up. This was the first real indication that Mark 





sn 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


was on the mend, and the doctor smiled with satisfaction. 
He meant to take off some of the bandages that morning. 

That afternoon with his head unswathed, Mark began 
to ask questions. Before that he had seemed to take every¬ 
thing for granted: 

“Billy, where’s the minister?” For Billy have never 
left his idol’s side except when Aunt Saxon needed him 
to help. 

“ Oh, he’s up to tha parsonage,” responded Billy 
carelessly. 

“ But why hasn’t he been to see me, Kid? ” 

“ Why—he—hasn’t been feelin’ very good.” Billy’s 
voice was brisk as if it wasn’t a matter of much moment. 

Mark turned his thoughtful gray eyes steadily on Billy: 

“ Now, look here, Kid, I’m well, and there’s no further 
need to camouflage. Billy, is the minister dead? ” 

“ Not on yer tin type, he ain’t dead! ” 

“ Well, is he hurt? ” 

“ Well, some,” Billy admitted cheerfully. 

“ Kid, look me in the eye.” 

Billy raised a saucy eye as well masked as Mark’s own 
could be on occasion. 

“ Kid, how much is he hurt! Tell me the truth! If 
you don’t I’ll get right up and go and see.” 

“ I’ll tell the world, you won’t! ” said Billy rising lazily 
and taking a gentle menacing step toward the bed. 

“Kid!” 

“ Well—he’s some hurt-—but he’s getting along fine 
now. He’ll be aw’wright.” 

“ How’d he get hurt?” 

“ Oh, the fire, same’s you.” 

“ How? ” insisted Mark. 

“ Oh, he went up again after a fella when it was 
too late—■” 

“ Billy, was it me ? ” 

“ Ugh huh!” nodded Billy. 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


323 


Mark was so still that Billy was frightened. When he 
looked up worried he saw that a great tear had escaped 
out from under the lashes which were growing nicely now, 
and had rolled down Mark’s cheek. Mark crying! 

In consternation Billy knelt beside the bed: 

“ Aw Gee! Mark, now don’t you feel like that. He’s 
gettin’ all right now they hope, an’ Gee! He was great! 
You oughtta seen him! ” 

“ Tell me about it,” said Mark huskily. 

“ He just ran up that there ladder when it was shaking 
like a leaf, an’ the wall beginning to buckle under it, an’ he 
picked you up. Fer a minute there the flames kinda blew 
back, and we seen ya both, and then the roof caved, an’ 
you all went down. But when we gotcha out he was layin’ 
right atop of ya, ’ith his arms spread out, trying t’cover 
ya! Gee, it was great! Everybody was just as still, like 
he was preachin’! ” 

After a long time Mark said: 

“ Billy, did you ever hear the words, 4 Greater love 
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for 
his friend? ’ ” 

“ Yep,” said Billy, “ That’s in the Bible I think, if 
’taint in Shakespeare. Miss Lynn said it over last Sunday. 
She says a lot of things from Shakespeare sometimes, and 
I kinda get’em mixed.” 

But Mark did not talk any more that day. He had a 
great deal to think about. 

But so did Billy, for looking out the window in the 
direction of the parsonage he had sighted the big Shafton 
car stopping before the door that morning. “ Aw Gee! ” 
he said. “That sissy-guy again?” Now, how’m I gonta 
get rid of him this time? Gee! Just when Mark’s gettin’ 
well too! If life ain’t just one thing after another! ” 



XXIX 


It was a bright frosty morning in the edge of winter 
when at last they let Mark go to see the minister, and Billy 
took care that no hint of the Shafton car should reach his 
knowledge. Slowly, gravely he escorted Mark down the 
street and up the parsonage steps. 

The minister was lying on a couch in the living room 
and there was a low* chair drawn up near by with a book 
open at the place, and a bit of fluffy sewing on the low table 
beside it. Mark looked hungrily about for the owner of 
the gold thimble, but there was no sign of either Mrs. 
Severn or Marilyn about. 

There was a bandage over the minister’s eyes. They 
hadn’t told Mark about that yet. 

The minister held out a groping hand with his old sweet 
smile and hearty welcoming voice : 

“ Well, son, you’ve come at last! Beat me to it, didn’t 
you? I’m glad. That was fair. Young blood you know.” 

Mark knelt down by the couch with his old friend’s hand 
held fast: Billy had faded into the landscape out on the 
front steps somewhere, and was even now settling down for 
an extended wait. If this interview went well he might 
hope to get a little rest and catch up on sports sometime 
soon. It all depended on this. 

Mark put up his other hand and touched the bandage: 

“ Father! ” he said, “ Father! ” and broke down 
“ Father, I have sinned—” he said brokenly. 

The minister’s arm went lovingly up across the young 
man’s shoulders: 

“ Son, have you told your heavenly Father that? ” he 
asked gently. 

“ I’ve tried,” said Mark, “ I’m not sure that He heard.” 







THE CITY OF FIRE 


325 


“ Oh, He heard said the minister with a ring of joy 
in his voice, “ While you were a great way off He came to 
meet you, son.” 

“You don’t know yet,” said Mark lifting a white 
sad face—” 

“If you’ve told Him I’ll trust you son. It’s up to you 
whether you tell me or not.” 

“ It is your right to know, sir. I want you to know. I 
cannot rest again until you do.” 

“ Then tell.” The minister’s hand folded down ten¬ 
derly over the boy’s, and so kneeling beside the couch Mark 
told his story: 

“ I must begin by telling you that I have always 
loved Marilyn.” 

“ I know,” said the minister, with a pressure on the 
hand he covered. 

“ One day I heard someone telling Mrs. Severn that I 
was not good enough for her: ” 

“ I know,” said the minister again. 

“ You know ? ” said Mark in surprise. 

“ Yes, go on.” 

“ I went away and thought it over. I felt as if I would 
die. I was mad and hurt clear through, but after I 
thought it over I saw that all she had said was true. I 
wasn’t good enough. There was a great deal of pride 
mixed with it all of course, I’ve seen that since, but I wasn’t 
good enough. Nobody was. Lynn is ,—wonder fid —/ 
But I was just a common, insignificant nobody, not fit to 
be her mate. I knew it! I could see just how things were 
going too. I saw you didn’t realize it, you nor Mrs. Severn. 

I knew Marilyn cared, but I thought she didn’t realize it 
either, and I saw it was up to me. If she wasn’t to have 
to suffer by being parted from me when she grew older, I 
must teach her not to care before she knew she cared. For 
days I turned it over in my mind. Many nights I lay 




326 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


awake all night or walked out on the hills, threshing it 
all over again. And I saw another thing. I saw that if it 
was so hard for me then when I was not much more than 
a kid it would be harder for her if I let her grow up caring, 
and then we had to be parted, so I decided to make the 
break. The day I made the decision I went off in the hills 
and stayed all day thinking it out. And then I looked up 
in the sky and told God I was done with Him. I had 
prayed and prayed that He would make a way out of this 
trouble for me, and He hadn’t done anything about it, and 
I felt that He was against me too. So when I had done 
that I felt utterly reckless. I didn’t care what happened to 
me, and I decided to go to the bad as fast as I could. I felt it 
would be the best way too to make Marilyn get over being 
fond of me. So I went down to Monopoly that night and 
looked up a fellow that had been coaching the teams for a 
while and was put out by the association because he was 
rotten. He had always made a fuss over me, wanted to 
make a big player out of me, and I knew he would be glad 
to see me. 

“ He was. He took me out to supper that night and 
gave me liquor to drink. You know I had never touched 
a drop. Never had intended to as long as I lived. But 
when he offered it to me I took it down as if I had been 
used to it. I didn’t care. I wanted to do all the wrong 
I could. 

“ I drank again and again, and I must have got pretty 
drunk. I remember the crowd laughed at me a great deal. 
And they brought some girls around. It makes me sick to 
think of it now. We went to a place and danced. I didn’t 
know how, but I danced anyway. And there was more 
drinking. I don’t remember things very distinctly. I did 
whatever the coach said, and he had been going a pretty 
good pace himself.—That night—! ” His voice choked 
with shame and it seemed as though he could not go on— 


THE CITY OP FIRE 


327 


but the minister’s clasp was steady and the boy gathered 
courage and went on— “ That night—we—went—to a 
house of shame—! ” 

He dropped his head and groaned. The minister did 
not attempt to break the pause that followed. He knew 
the struggle that was going on in the bitterness of the 
young man’s soul. He maintained that steady hand clasp: 

“ In the morning—when I came to myself—” he went 
on “ I knew what I had done. I had cut myself off forever 
from all that made life worth while. I would never be 
worthy again to even speak to you all whom I loved so 
much. I would never be able to look myself in the face 
again even. I was ashamed. I had given up God and love, 
and everything worth while. 

“ That was when I went away to New York. Mother 
tried to stop me, but I would go. I tried when I got to 
New York to plunge into a wild life, but it didn’t attract 
me. I had to force myself. Besides, I had resolved that 
whatever came, wherever I went I would not drink and I 
would keep clean . I thought that by so doing I might in 
time at least win back my self respect. Later I conceived 
the idea of trying to save others from a life of shame. I 
did succeed in helping some to better ways I think, both 
men and girls. But I only won a worse reputation at home 
for it, and I’m not sure I did much good. I only know I 
walked in hell from morning to night, and in time I came 
to dwell among lost souls. It seemed the only place that 
I belonged. 

“ You remember when you read us Dante * Thou who 
through the City of Fire alive art passing’ ? You used to 
preach in church about beginning the eternal life now, and 
making a little heaven below, I’m sure that is as true of 
hell. I began my eternal life five years ago, but it was in 
hell, and I shall go on living in that fire of torture forever, 
apart from all I love. I tried to get out by doing good to 





328 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


others, but it was of no avail. I thought never to tell you 
this, but something made me, after you—you gave your 
life for me—! ” 

“ And had you forgotten/' said the minister tenderly, 
“ That the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us 
from all sin? And that he said, ‘ Come now and let us 
reason together, Though your sins be as scarlet they shall 
be as white as snow ? ' ” 

“ I gave up all right to that when I gave up God on 
the mountain/' 

“ But God did not give up you/' said the minister. 
“ Do you think a true father would cast out a child because 
it got angry and shook its fist in his face? You will find 
Him again when you search for Him with all your heart. 
You have told Him you were sorry, and He has promised 
to forgive. You can’t save yourself, but He can save you. 
Now, son, go and tell Marilyn everything." 

“ Do you mean it,— Father? ” 

“ I mean it— Son. The doctor is coming by and by to 
take off these bandages, and I want the first thing that my 
eyes rest upon after my dear wife’s face, to be the faces 
of you two. My beloved children.’' 

Sabbath Valley lay tucked warm and white beneath a 
blanket of snow. All the week it had been coming down, 
down, in great white flakes of especially sorted sizes, filling 
the air mightily with winter clean and deep. Here in the 
fastnesses of the hills it seemed that the treasure troves of 
the sky had been opened to make all beautiful and quiet 
while winter passed that way. Lone Valley was almost 
obliterated, pierced with sharp pine trees in bunches here 
and there, like a flock of pins in a pincushion, and the hills 
rose gently on either side like a vast amphitheatre done in 
white and peopled thick with trees in heavy white furs. 

The Highway was almost impassable for a day or two, 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


329 


• 

but the state snow plow passed over as soon as the snow 
stopped falling, and left a white pavement with white walls 
either side. The tunnel through the mountains was only 
a black dot in the vast whiteness, and Pleasant View Sta¬ 
tion wore a heavy cap of snow dripping down in lavish 
fringes edged with icicles. The agent’s little shanty up 
the mountain was buried out of sight behind a snow drift 
and had to be dug out from the back, and no Lake Train 
ran any more. The express was five hours late. Stark 
Mountain loomed white against the sky. And over in 
Sabbath Valley the night it stopped snowing all the vil¬ 
lagers were out shovelling their walks and calling glad 
nothings back and forth as they flung the white star dust 
from their shovels, and little children came out with rubber 
boots and warm leggings and wallowed in the beauty. The 
milkman got out an old sleigh and strung a line of bells 
around his horse. The boys and girls hurried up the 
mountain to their slide with home made sleds and laughing 
voices, and the moon came up looking sweetly from a sud¬ 
den clearing sky. 

Over in the church the windows shone with light, 
and the bells were ringing out the old sweet songs the 
villagers loved. Marilyn was at the organ and Mark 
by her side. In the body of the church willing hands 
were working, setting up the tall hemlocks that Tom and 
Jim had brought in from the mountain, till the little church 
was fragrant and literally lined with lacey beauty, remind¬ 
ing one of ancient worship in the woods. Holly wreaths 
were hanging in the windows everywhere, and ropes of 
ground pine and laurel festooned from every pillar and 
corner and peak of roof. 

Laurie Shafton had sent a great coffer of wonderful 
roses, and the country girls were handling them with awe, 
banking them round the pulpit, and trailing them over the 





S30 


THE CITY OF FIRE 


rail of the little choir loft, wonderful roses from another 
world, the world that Marilyn Severn might have married 
into if she had chosen. And there sat Marilyn as indif¬ 
ferent as if they were dandelions, praising the trees that 
had been set up, delighting in their slender tops that rose 
like miniature spires all round the wall, drawing in the 
sweetness of their winter spicy breath, and never saying a 
word about the roses. “ Roses ? Oh, yes, they look all 
right, Girls, just put them wherever you fancy. I'll be 
suited. But aren’t those trees too beautiful for words? ” 

When the work was done they trooped out noisily into 
the moonlight, bright like day only with a beauty that was 
almost unearthly in its radiance. The others went on down 
the street calling gay words back and forth, but Mark and 
Marilyn lingered, bearing a wreath of laurel, and stepping 
deep into the whiteness went over to the white piled mound 
where they had laid Mrs. Carter’s body to rest and Mark 
stooped down and pressed the wreath down into the snow 
upon the top: 

“ Dear little mother,” he said brokenly, “ She loved 
pretty things and I meant to give her so many of them 
sometime to make up—” 

“ But she’ll be glad—” said Marilyn softly, " We loved 
each other very much—! ” 

“ Yes, she’ll be glad! ” he answered. “ She often tried 
to find out why I never went to the parsonage any more. 
Poor little mother! That was her deepest disappoint¬ 
ment—! Yes, she’ll be glad—! ” 

When morning came it seemed as though the very 
glory of God was spread forth on Sabbath Valley for dis¬ 
play. There it lay, a shining gem of a little white town, 
in the white velvet cup of the Valley, dazzling and 
lcsplendent, the hills rising round about reflecting more 
brightness and etched with fringes of fine branches each 



THE CITY OF FIRE 


831 


burdened with a line of heavy furry white. Against the 
clear blue sky the bell tower rose, and from its arches the 
bells rang forth a wedding song. Marilyn in her white 
robes, with a long white veil of rare old lace handed down 
through the generations, falling down the back and 
fastened about her forehead, and with a slim little rope of 
pearls, also an heirloom, was ringing her own wedding 
bells, with Mark by her side, while the villagers gathered 
outside the door waiting for the wedding march to begin 
before they came in. 

The minister and his wife stood back in his little study 
behind the pulpit, watching their two with loving eyes, and 
down by the front door stood Billy in a new suit with his 
hair very wet and licked back from an almost crimson 
countenance, waiting the word to fling open the door and 
let the congregation in. 

“ Turn, diddy dam —Diddy dum—faddydum —Diddy- 
dum — didd ydum — Diddydum — dunt — dum — Dum 
—Dum—Dum! ” began the organ and Billy flung the 
portals wide and stood aside on the steps to let the 
throng pass in, his eyes shining as if they would say, “ Aw 
Gee! Ain’T this great?” 

And just at that moment, wallowing through the snow, 
with the air of having come from the North Pole there 
arrived a great car and drew up to the door, and Laurie 
Shafton jumped anxiously out and flung open the door 
for his passengers. 

“Aw Gee! That Fish! Whadde wantta come here 
for? The great chump! Don’t he know he ain’t in it? ” 

Billy watched in lofty scorn from his high step and 
decided to hurry in and not have to show any honors to 
that sissy-guy. 

Then out from the car issued Opal, done in furs from 
brow to shoe and looking eagerly about her, and following 
her a big handsome sporty man almost twice her age, 




332 


THE CITY OF FIRE 




looking curiously interested, as if he had come to a shrine 
to worship, Opal’s husband. Billy stared, and then re¬ 
membering that the wedding march was almost over and 
that he might be missing something: 

“ Aw, Gee! Whadduw I care ? He ain’t little apples 
now, anyhow. He couldn’ta bought her with barrels of 
roses, an’ he knows it too, the poor stiff. He must be a 
pretty good scout after all, takin’ his medicine straight! ” 

Then Billy slid in and the quiet little ceremony began. 

The organ hushed into nothing. Marilyn arose, took 
Mark’s arm, and together they stepped down and stood in 
front of the minister, who had come down the steps of the 
pulpit and was awaiting them, with Marilyn’s mother sit¬ 
ting only a step away on the front seat. 

It was all so quiet and homey, without fuss or march¬ 
ing or any such thing, and when the ceremony was over 
the bride and groom turned about in front of the bank of 
hemlock and roses and their friends swarmed up to con¬ 
gratulate them. Then everybody went into the parsonage, 
where the ladies of the church had prepared a real country 
wedding breakfast with Christmas turkey and fixings for 
a foundation and going on from that. It wasn’t every day 
in the year that Sabbath Valley got its minister’s daughter 
married, and what if the parsonage was small and only 
fifty could sit down at once, everybody was patient, and 
it was all the more fun! 

The three guests from out of town, self imposed, 
looked on with wonder and interest. It was a revelation. 
Marilyn looked up and found big Ed Verrons frankly 
staring at her, a puzzled pleased expression on his large 
coarse face. She was half annoyed and wondered why 
they had come to spoil this perfect day. Then suddenly the 
big man stepped across the little living room and spoke: 

“ Mrs. Carter, we came over to-day because Opal said 
you had something that would help us begin over again and 








THE CITY OF FIRE 


333 


make life more of a success. I want to thank you for 
having this chance to see a little bit of heaven on earth 
before I die.” 

Later, when the city guests were fed and comforted 
perhaps, and had climbed back into the big car, Billy stood 
on the front porch with a third helping of ice cream and 
watched them back, and turn, and wallow away into the 
deep white world, and his heart was touched with pity: 

“ Aw, Gee! The poor fish! I ’spose it is hard lines! 
And then it was sorta my faultchu know,” and he turned 
with a joyful sigh that they were gone, and went in to look 
again at Mary Louise Little, and see what it was about her 
in that new blue challis that made her look so sorta 
nice to-day. 




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